What Friends Are For
by KianSpo
Summary: Jim's old buddy comes aboard the Enterprise. Official stuff isn't the only thing he's after. Eventual K/S
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Written in response to this prompt from the infamous kink meme: "So Jim's best buddy from childhood comes aboard the Enterprise (as a passenger or crewmember or whatever) and everyone loves him. Except Spock.  
Turns out that the best buddy is actually a jerk who's taken the hobby of molesting/groping/making lewd passes at Spock whenever he can. At first the crew takes it as jokes and laughs at it, but sooner or later they realize that it isn't all fun and games anymore. And Spock doesn't do anything because he (insert reason here). So it's up to the crew to decide on whether or not they should tell Jim and how."

Warnings!!! The story will contain implications of Dub/Non-con, also exposure to insecure!Spock is eminent. Enter at own risk!

* * *

_Nothing but the rough surface of the wall before his eyes, his body pressed tightly against the bulkhead, legs spread apart, wrists held securely behind his back, Spock felt another wave of dizziness overcome him. _

"_This is the way I like you," a silky voice rasped in his ear at the same time as a rock-hard erection pressed against his ass again. Spock felt it twitching through the layers of clothing, which was mercifully still in place. "But I wonder..." the voice continued, pausing long enough for the sharp teeth to sink into the tender skin of Spock's earlobe, "...if you would look even better on your knees."_

_Spock closed his eyes, shuddering and trying desperately to remember how he managed to get into this situation in the first place. _

~***~

Chapter 1

"Oh goddammit, Jim, will you shut up already?"

Kirk looked up from his plate with a half-confused, half-offended expression.

"I didn't even say anything," he pouted at his friend.

"You don't have to say anything, it's written all over you," McCoy grumbled, pushing a piece of potato around his plate. "We're all worried about the inspection, but you've taken it way too far, you know what I'm saying?"

"Indeed, captain," Spock supplied, surveying Kirk's face carefully. "The Enterprise is in perfect shape and I do not foresee any complications that might hinder our grades."

"Maybe not _your_ grades," Kirk told him with a sour smile. "And not even the ship's." He glanced from his first officer to his CMO. "Don't you two get it? Starfleet didn't send this commissioner here to check if the decks are scraped. It's been one year since the Narada, and I'm not dead, and you guys haven't mutinied against me. This whole inspection is devised for one purpose only – to find a way to relieve me of command."

For a moment, both his officers merely looked at him. Predictably, McCoy was the first one to explode.

"Jim, that's just paranoid. Every ship in the fleet is inspected at one time or another. Every captain's performance is evaluated."

"Captain, I find myself forced to agree with Doctor McCoy," Spock said evenly. "During my tour with then Captain Pike, I have witnessed two similar inspections."

"Really," Kirk looked at him. "And how did Pike do?"

Spock lifted an eyebrow.

"Exemplary."

Kirk snorted humorlessly.

"Yeah. Somehow I doubt I'd be that lucky."

Spock actually frowned, his brows furrowed slightly making a short move to meet each other. Spock checked it in a second, but he still looked concerned.

"This has nothing to do with luck, Captain. The inspector will observe the normal operations on the ship and the interactions of the crew. It is an efficiency evaluation, not a game of chance. And we are, as you know, functioning at top efficiency."

"Thanks to you mostly," Kirk sighed, looking down. "And Scotty. I guess it counts that I managed to keep such capable officers with me, but..."

"Captain, I hardly believe that—"

"Oh, shut it, Spock," McCoy cut him off impatiently, rolling his eyes. "He knows he's a good captain, he just can't get enough of you telling him so. If you play at this game, we won't be done by tomorrow."

"Bones!" Kirk shot him a murderous look, blushing furiously. "That was uncalled for!"

"Was it?" The CMO's eyes glinted wickedly. "Next time I'll bring a mirror to show you how stupid you look hanging onto Spock's every word."

Kirk's blush became even more pronounced, but he obviously had recovered from the initial blow.

"I happen to value my first officer's opinion," he said with as much of cool dignity as he could muster. "And I'd never turn to Spock if I were in the mood to fish for compliments."

"Compliments are illogical," Spock interjected, watching the by-play with interest.

"You don't say," McCoy turned to him, actually laughing. "_'Captain, your analysis of the situation was impeccably logical.' 'Captain, your solution appears to be unique.' 'Captain, you have demonstrated uncommon bravery.'_ Need I go on?"

Spock was looking at McCoy in a very calm, very steady manner, which for anyone else might have appeared as polite interest, but which his two dinner companions knew to be the Vulcan variation of a glare.

"Doctor, it is my duty as the first officer to evaluate the captain's performance," Spock said, with a not-so-veiled menace in his tone.

"Oh sure," McCoy snorted, ignoring the silent warning. "But let me tell you something, Mr. First Officer. Your precious Captain wouldn't be risking his neck for no reason half so willingly, if you failed to tell him how cute he was afterwards even once."

"Bones, that's enough," Kirk snapped quietly, but firmly. His eyes were trained on his CMO, pointedly avoiding looking at Spock. "If you have something to say to me, say it. But whatever petty vendetta you're on, leave Spock out of this."

McCoy turned back to him, glaring.

"Oh, I have something to say to both of you," he promised darkly. "You're worried about the inspection, Jim? Damn right, you should be. But it's not Engineering that'll get you in trouble, even if they do find Scotty's still. And it's not the science labs. It's my medical records. I don't think there'd been any two weeks straight throughout the whole year when either one of you wasn't dripping blood all over my sickbay."

"Hey, hey!" Kirk raised a hand defensively. "We're in a dangerous line of work, doctor."

"Really, Jim? I had no idea," McCoy drawled acidly. "It would have been far less dangerous if you, for one, stopped showing off trying to impress a cold-blooded Vulcan of all people."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, by all means, let me enlighten you. Does telling a Klingon he has no honor ring a bell? I gotta tell you, for all the sheer stupidity you'd shown before that, this was downright impressive. I only had to mend eight bones, come to think of it."

"That was a negotiations tactics and I admit—," Kirk added hastily, taking in McCoy's glare, "—not a very smart one. But it was a long time ago, Bones, I learned since then."

"That was three weeks ago, Jim!"

"Okay then, not so long ago, but I learned—"

"Doctor, you are seriously mistaken where the captain's motivation is concerned," Spock chimed in warily. "He is driven by the desire for the mission to result in success, not by personal interest."

McCoy whirled toward him so swiftly as if someone bit him on the ass.

"I could give you a piece of my mind about his _desires_," he growled menacingly. "But don't let me even start with _you_. Thanks to your pointy-eared smartass devil-may-care attitude, I've enriched my knowledge of poisonous plants, cold weapons, darts, bullets, fucking _arrows_, not to mention every possible variation of energy weapons – by means of extracting all this shit from your green-blooded hide or treating you for plasma burns!"

"I am pleased to be of service, doctor."

"The fuck you are! It's a good thing you keep this idiot out of all this, but why the fuck do you need to take it all yourself eludes me!"

"I assure you, doctor, I do not seek to inflict harm on myself."

"Could have fooled me," McCoy grumbled. "You think Jim's gonna like your pointy ears better if you're dead?"

Spock stiffened, glanced at the captain curtly and stood up.

"I see no reason to sit here and be insulted," he dropped coldly. "Captain, you will have the sections' efficiency report updates on your desk by eight-oh hundred tomorrow. I hope that meets with your approval."

"That'll be cool, Commander," Kirk nodded, looking at him somberly. "Dismissed."

Spock walked out of the mess without a backward glance. Kirk watched him go, then turned his very much not amused gaze at McCoy.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He asked, not even trying to mask his annoyance. "Bones, you can't push Spock like that."

"Why not?" McCoy challenged. "You think I'm doing this for fun, do you? I'm dead serious, Jim. I don't know what kind of sick game you two are playing, but anyone who'd look at my records would immediately get suspicious regarding your mental health."

"Bones, he lost a goddamned planet. I got promoted skipping like ten years of my career. We lost half the fleet – a lot of good people on Vulcan. We nearly lost Earth. That's a lot to deal with, don't you think?"

"I agree, Jim," McCoy nodded quietly. "It's a lot to deal with, but you and Spock aren't even trying. Most of the time you suppress it. Then, the first chance you got you both go kick ass and take names. That's not a coping mechanism. That's a goddamned route to getting yourselves killed."

"We're doing our job, Bones."

"I don't deny that. And as someone who knew you before this Narada mess, I gotta tell you, you've changed, Jim. You've changed a lot and in a good way. You're more responsible now, more mature. Still an idiot, mind you, but you know what I mean."

Kirk smiled at him faintly.

"I have a vague idea."

"Yes, well, my point is, Jim, you're taking a lot of unnecessary risks. And I was serious before, kid."

"I'm not trying to impress Spock," Kirk said.

"Jim," McCoy looked at him patiently. "It's me you're talking to, remember? I know you inside out. You all but fall all over yourself to impress him. What I don't know is why. Either you're competing with him 'cause of some stupid macho bravado thing, or you want to get into his pants."

"Bones! I—"

"I don't care," McCoy cut him off. "But take some advice from your goddamn doctor, Jim. If it's the former, grow the hell up. And if it's the latter, buy him flowers, read him Vulcan poetry, or learn to chew with your mouth closed. For all I know, that alone would do the trick."

"Why thanks," Kirk pushed his chair away from the table irritably. "That's the best advice I ever got about anything. Now, if you'll excuse me, doctor, I have a ship to make ready for an inspection."

"Don't overexert yourself," McCoy shot at his back. "I'm pretty sure whoever this inspector is, he'd prefer a ship's captain who's still actually breathing."

Kirk didn't deign to answer.

~***~

"Tell me you're nearly done," Kirk pleaded with his chief engineer.

Scotty looked around, taking in the havoc in the engine room for the first time, and grinned sheepishly.

"Not to worry, captain. She'll be all shipshape before ye can say 'twizzle.'"

"Twizzle," Kirk said experimentally, not even trying to guess what on earth it might mean.

The engine room unsurprisingly remained in the frightening state of creative chaos. Scotty shrugged.

"Might take a wee bit longer than that."

Kirk sighed.

"Scotty, the inspector will be here at 1200 tomorrow."

"And he's not gonna find a bolt outta place, captain. I promise, lad."

Kirk looked at him dubiously, but finally nodded. His frown didn't dissipate, though. As he looked over Scotty's diagrams and calculations, his expression was becoming steadily gloomier.

"Scotty," he started tentatively. "How many of these... modifications are approved by Starfleet?"

"Well, sir..."

"Or should I ask – are any of them approved?"

"Well, sir, it's like this," Scotty shrugged. "Mr. Spock's got all the paperwork lined up for these. And ye know him, knows his regs like I know my girl's tubes," he actually stroke the nearest bulkhead at that. Seeing Kirk's expression, he added, "If ye catch my drift, sir."

Kirk wondered briefly how long it had been since Scotty actually had real sex. Honestly, the guy seemed obsessed with the ship even more than Jim was. The question was at the tip of his tongue, but Kirk swallowed it back forcibly. First, it might cost him several teeth. And second, if Scotty asked him back, it might get awkward. Then, something else caught his attention.

"Spock helped you get the paperwork on all this?" He asked cautiously, making sure he heard right.

"Aye," Scotty nodded, grinning. "Dunno how I woulda done without him. It's not that it's illegal or anything, captain. Just new."

"Scotty, but there must be hundreds of things you rebuilt here," Kirk said in awe. "When did Spock manage to get it all done?"

His engineer looked mildly uncomfortable.

"Well, sir, mostly at night, sir. 'Twas just him and me here, and he's a bright lad. I dinna have to explain stuff to him, so it went pretty fast."

"I see," Kirk said, impressed and warmed up for some reason. "Well then, Scotty. Carry on."

"Aye, sir," Scotty grinned brightly, no doubt only too happy to get the captain out of his domain at last.

Kirk left the engineering deck in surprisingly good spirits. Not that he was all that surprised really. After all, Spock was nothing if not efficient, and while the circumstances of his ending up on Kirk's ship were not exactly conventional, Kirk had to admit that he could never wish for a better first.

Initially, he was apprehensive of accepting Spock. Something about his greater experience and knowledge of the inner workings of the service unnerved Kirk. He didn't think Spock could forgive him that easily for being relieved of command _and_ exposed as emotionally compromised. Not that Kirk would have held it against him. He didn't think he'd forgive himself, either. Spock, to his surprise, got over it pretty quickly. Holding grudges was obviously illogical.

Smirking slightly, Kirk proceeded with his own pre-inspection inspection. Only to discover that Spock had been one step ahead of him all the way.

The maintenance department greeted the captain with the report on the ready. The same thing happened in communications, security, science (where it was presented by Spock's beta-shift lieutenant), and even medical, where Kirk got yelled at yet again by a very grumpy Bones. The captain stalked out of sickbay hurriedly, but inwardly he was pleased.

It was a little unnerving but also strangely comforting to know that his and Spock's minds functioned on the same wavelength so seamlessly. Spock covered all the bases Kirk was worried about, and quite a few the captain had forgotten. Kirk could see Spock's personal touch everywhere he looked. A promptly made correction here; a swift efficient intervention there. And all that was done with competence, tact, and a great deal of the impeccable fairness that distinguished his first officer.

Kirk went to bed with a grin on his face. He was still worried about the inspection. But it felt good to know that he had Spock to watch his back.

~***~

The next day, Kirk was the last one to enter the transporter room. He didn't have any problems with his dress-uniform, but he did take his time to go through the updates on the ship's status that Spock had dutifully transferred to his terminal. Not that Kirk believed something was amiss, but it gave him the distraction he needed. He couldn't remember ever being this nervous.

He never cared much for his grades. Not at school where everything was just too easy, and not even at the Academy where he had to make considerable effort to maintain his straight A status. Still, grades never seemed so important. But this, this was different.

The manner in which his ship would pass this inspection would be paramount in proving to all the skeptics in Starfleet that he did earn the captain's chair. His promotion was unprecedented, and there were a lot of people who thought that Starfleet Command was crazy to entrust someone like him with a ship. He and his crew had concluded many successful missions during this last year, but somehow for seasoned career officers who spent their whole lives to achieve his rank and position, that wasn't good enough. For them, Kirk's promotion was like a slap in the face, regardless of the circumstances.

It was strange and a little unfair, Kirk thought, that no one ever bugged Spock about his rank. Really, from a graduate to full commander in three years? It took Kirk's father eight years to make a full lieutenant, and his rise through the ranks was considered one of the swiftest in Starfleet history. Pike himself had been an officer for fifteen years before he first captained a vessel.

If Kirk didn't relieve Spock of command, the Vulcan would have made captain in three, and still Spock's head-spinning progress didn't bother anyone. Perhaps because he was a Vulcan, Kirk thought lamely, clasping the last of the fastenings on his silk jacket. Or maybe because Spock totally lacked ambition where command positions were concerned.

Kirk looked nervously at his own reflection in the mirror. He'd make this stick. His people had been working hard; young or no, they earned the right to sit in their chairs. He hadn't let them down yet and he wasn't about to start now. They were the best crew any captain could wish for. He was absurdly proud of them and was determined to prove to be worthy of them.

He grinned and winked at himself. He'd make that stubborn, tight-ass, loyal to the core Vulcan proud of him, too.

He made his way through the decks quickly, and in no time at all the doors to the transporter room opened before him. Kirk's breath momentarily caught as his eyes fell upon a tall lean figure clad in navy-blue silk.

Spock wore silk like no one else Kirk knew. He himself had always felt uncomfortable in his captain's gold during the formal functions, the slick material making him feel itchy and for some reason indecent. Spock wore the luxury material like he was born to do exactly that. The fabric clung to him like a second skin, accentuating his physique, flowing over the fine relief of muscles, deceptively thin, bringing to view the elegant shape of his body, leaving very little indeed to the imagination.

The pants of men's dress-uniform were mercifully black for everyone and definitely not made of silk. They were, however, unquestionably tighter than standard uniform pants. In Spock's case, that peculiarity served to remind everyone that he had fine slim hips, strong long legs and a butt that was impossible to ignore.

The first time Kirk saw Spock in his dress-uniform, he excused himself almost instantly and spent several minutes reminding himself how to breathe. The Starfleet uniform designer obviously intended to advertise its officers as much as possible in the most primitive and blunt way, and whoever he was, he had succeeded.

Ever since then Kirk had learned to give himself a moment or two to adjust to seeing his first in the outfit that screamed sex at anyone who looked. After all, he thought, it wasn't Spock's fault that he looked so fuck-me-now-against-the-wall hot in what Starfleet made him wear.

Kirk caught Spock's eye and stiffened for a moment, suspended in mid-motion. The dark blue color had a strange effect on Spock's eyes, making them lighter and brighter. Usually impenetrably dark, they were glowing now, almost sizzling.

Kirk swallowed, breaking eye contact hastily and glancing at Bones instead, barely giving Spock an acknowledgement.

"Why, Bones," the captain exclaimed with excessive gleefulness. "You look positively dashing!"

McCoy glowered at him and tugged at the tight collar unhappily.

"This goddamn thing is choking me," he complained for the hundredth time. "I hate dress-uniform."

"Regulations, doctor," Kirk smirked, clapping him on the shoulder. "You'll live." He turned to glance at Uhura. "And there's the heartbreaker," he gave her an appreciative once-over.

A year ago, a glance like that might have earned him a punch in the face. But by now, they were both long used to this ritual of him pretending to hit on her and her giving him a witty rebuff. She did look good in her little red dress, which somehow was even smaller than her usual uniform. She laughed good-naturally and stepped closer to him.

"You'll live, captain," she purred, lifting her hands to his neck and clasping the fastening he missed. "You know you look really pretty... for a farm boy."

Kirk snorted. Looking over her shoulder, he caught Spock's eye for a second and could have sworn the Vulcan was amused by the exchange.

"It's time, captain," Spock said, having made the last check with the transporter operator and joining the others.

"Very well," Kirk nodded, straightening up.

They formed a line, ready to greet the Starfleet official. Kirk found Spock standing at his usual place next to him and darted a worried look at him. Spock glanced back, and something in his eyes made Kirk realize that he wasn't in this alone. The Vulcan was just as apprehensive of the inspection as he was, only hiding it better. Instinctively, Kirk brushed Spock's wrist with the back of his hand lightly and gave him a crooked grin.

"It'll work," he muttered what was both a private joke and a reassurance.

The corners of Spock's lips curled upward ever so slightly, showing Kirk he remembered. Kirk's grin widened and he nodded back to Scotty.

"Energize."

_Here it comes_, Kirk thought watching the white cocoon of materialization. But when it was complete, depositing a somewhat bulky human with bright red hair on the transporter pad, Kirk couldn't stifle a gasp.

"Jake!"

The senior Starfleet official grinned from ear to ear, and the next moment Kirk nearly swept him off his feet in a crushing bear hug.

"Hey, Jimbo!" The man Kirk called Jake clapped his back enthusiastically. "Long time no see."

Behind his back, Spock and Uhura glanced at McCoy for an explanation, but the doctor only shrugged, telling them mutely he had no idea who the man was.

"You're the inspector?" Kirk blurted out with a laugh. "God, and here I was thinking we were doomed!"

"You _are_ doomed," his friend gave him a mock glare. "And it's Commodore Stevens for you, captain."

"No shit," Jim chuckled, inspecting his insignia. "Promoted you that fast, did they? Well, good for you. Come, meet my officers."

Both of them finally stepped down from the platform, and Kirk introduced his senior staff one by one.

"My chief medical officer Leonard McCoy, communications officer Lieutenant Uhura, that geek over there is my chief engineer Montgomery Scott, and this is my first officer Commander Spock."

"Commodore," Spock inclined his head politely. "You honor us with your presence."

Stevens looked at him for a moment longer than he did at the others. Spock endured the scrutiny stoically, only elevating one eyebrow ever so slightly. Finally, Stevens grinned somewhat insolently.

"I'm sure it does. Well, Jim," he turned to Kirk once again. "I'll be staying for at least a month with you. Care to show me your lady?"

"No time like the present," Kirk grinned. "I'm sure you'll find everything in perfect shape."

"Oh yes," Stevens replied, his eyes lingering on Spock once again. "I already do."

And if Spock looked mildly uncomfortable at the veiled implication, nobody noticed.

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Headaches were unusual for Vulcans, but by the end of the day, Spock admitted regrettably that he seemed to have acquired one, and a bad one at that. He wished he could have some time for himself, no more than ten minutes of peace and quiet, and then he could have silenced the persistent ache. The universe, it seemed, had other plans.

The rest of the senior staff was graciously excused to go about their business, but as the first officer Spock had to stick for the tour. They started it by showing the commodore to his quarters, which were only two sections away from those of the captain. Spock's quarters were next to Kirk's, and they all used the opportunity to change into their usual uniforms. Then the real tour began.

Spock found himself trailing after the humans who were talking and laughing loudly as they crossed from department to department. From the stray comments and not so hidden jests, Spock surmised that the commodore used to be the captain's playmate, possibly friend, when Kirk was about ten years of age. The captain was obviously enjoying his company, and the commodore himself seemed pleasant enough for a human.

He smiled a lot and he seemed to know the right thing to say to every person he met. Spock even envied him the talent at some point, remembering how much time and consideration it had taken him to find common touch with his colleagues. Jake Stevens seemed to be a natural. It looked like he was on the first name basis with half the crew by the time they finished their tour.

Spock could sense the enormous relief Kirk was feeling. The captain had shared his concerns regarding the inspection with Spock on several occasions, and Spock recalled that one of the main considerations that caused Kirk's apprehension was his suspicion that he would not be judged fairly. He was afraid that all Starfleet brass were biased where he was concerned and would be inclined to view everything in the negative, without giving him the benefit of a doubt.

Of course, having his childhood friend as an inspector changed matters. To Spock's silent relief and even more silent approval, though, Kirk didn't appear to call his cause a win just yet. He did, however, relax somewhat, apparently realizing that he wouldn't be subjected to a partial appraisal. That relief mixed with his obvious, almost palpable joy at seeing his friend again. If that were all, Spock would have probably been in good spirits also.

Unfortunately, it wasn't as simple as that.

Neither Stevens nor Kirk paid much attention to Spock throughout their progress. The captain occasionally turned to him for a precise figure or date, sometimes shooting grateful glances at him for having the answers at the ready, but that was all. Stevens seemed to ignore Spock's presence all together, but that 'seemed' was 'seemed' indeed.

While he directed no inquiries at Spock, Spock couldn't help the feeling that Stevens was hyperaware of him the whole time. Once or twice, he stopped in his tracks suddenly, nearly making Spock bump into him. The thought was ridiculous, but Spock couldn't get rid of the impression that he was doing this on purpose.

The Vulcan avoided a collision with casual grace and was disinclined to draw attention to it, but Stevens made a point of turning back to him the second time, actually stepping closer, and apologizing for his clumsiness. He was smiling amicably, and yet Spock barely managed to stifle a shiver running down his spine.

By the time the tour ended, the Vulcan was very much displeased with himself. Spock couldn't explain where the whole illogical notion of the commodore being after him was coming from and berated himself for it thoroughly.

He had never considered himself to be particularly attractive. His features were lacking in expressiveness, so highly valued by humans, while being overly expressive at the same time to be considered aesthetically pleasing among Vulcans.

It was quite probable that both races would agree on him being wanting in stance, too slim to pass as an equal to a full-blooded Vulcan male like Stonn, and too lean to embody the human ideal of masculinity. When he first enrolled in Starfleet and settled at the Academy, Spock's classmates used to call him 'sprite.' Spock had obviously gained some weight and height since then, but he still seemed to be way too slender.

His movements, while precise and swift, were way more fluid than those of humans, and lacked the sparing tightness of true Vulcans. Most of all his poise and gait resembled a Deltan, and as Vulcans despised sensuality as a vulgar and primitive trait, such comparison was anything but flattering. From his early teen years, Spock had learned to carry himself with as much rigidity as possible, trying to compensate for the inappropriate inclinations of his body.

Not that it helped.

Vulcan. He left, his ears still ringing with, 'Your mother is at least a human, Spock. What's _your_ excuse for being a whore?'

Lips too full, eyes too big, and these long thick eyelashes. His father had nothing of the sort.

Earth. 'Hey, sugar, wanna go to bed with me?' 'Aren't you just asking to be fucked silly?' 'That mouth you have there. Mind if I come in and throw a party?'

His qualification allowed him to skip one year of training entirely at the Academy, but that didn't change things much. By the time he graduated, he was introduced, in part willingly and for the most part not so much, to essentially every sexual practice his peers were familiar with. They told him he should be grateful for their attention.

Spock didn't come remotely close to experiencing gratitude, but he never once reported them either. It was difficult to explain. He knew he could file a complaint and would be within his rights, but something stopped him every time.

They didn't actually injure him, for one thing. A bruised pride was not something a Vulcan would come forward with, as it would presuppose the existence of said emotion. And deep down inside, Spock suspected that he was treated thus because he didn't deserve any better.

Still, he had his moments. There were certain reflexes he couldn't control, which led to his 'friends' sustaining broken bones at one time or another. Out of fear of being exposed or for some other reason, they didn't report him either. By the end of his second year, they had more or less left him alone.

His classmates were growing up, too. All around him, people were dating, with different degree of being serious about it, some even forming permanent unions. Spock was as left out of it as if he wasn't there. Which only confirmed his conclusion that while he was, apparently, 'fun' by human standards, he wasn't good enough for anything more profound. He buried himself in his studies and then sought refuge in space.

'What are we gonna do with you, son?' Captain Pike asked his very young, very talented, and very enigmatic science officer. 'You can't spend your whole life in that shell, can you?'

And so it began. Slowly, but persistently, his captain coaxed him into socializing with his fellow officers. It started with an hour in the rec room two or three times a week. It had been a challenge at first, but gradually Spock lowered his guard a little and discovered that he was surrounded by competent, professional people, who were interested in knowing him better.

He found that answering personal questions wasn't so difficult when the person asking them wasn't fishing for ways to insult him. And the questions were personal, but not out of line. What kind of music he preferred; what his favorite food was; why he believed Aristotle had an advantage over Plato; was he really the author of that paper on quantum mechanics that had started such a vicious debate in the science circles and could he please elaborate.

Cautious and wary at first, Spock couldn't help but answer and ask questions of his own. He felt like a beggar invited to a king's table – he looked at the food, tasted it, called for seconds, was provided with them, – and still couldn't quite believe it was happening and kept expecting the illusion to dissipate at any moment. It took months and months of his tour with Pike for him to finally stop waiting for some kind of catch.

The captain himself seemed to take a personal interest in him, and Spock could barely process his own feelings, so overwhelming they became all of a sudden. He hadn't been subject to such kind, nonjudgmental attention since... well, ever. His interactions with his mother were strictly limited ever since he chose the Vulcan way, in order to minimize her influence. And his father wasn't exactly the most sociable person in the galaxy.

There were quiet evenings in the captain's cabin and discussions of politics, history, philosophy and art. Pike asked and Spock taught him to play _kal-toh_, a Vulcan game of strategy, which they both quite enjoyed. All the while, Pike was carefully grooming Spock as an officer who would one day command his own vessel. They discussed the challenges of command and the nature of the service, talked about Spock's doubts. Pike exposed him to his enormous experience, welcoming him to learn more about the fine art of interacting with people.

Gradually, the conversations turned more and more personal. Spock found himself telling Pike things he never imagined he'd be sharing. One evening when they were sharing a drink and feeling particularly comfortable with each other, Pike asked about Spock's Academy years, and, to his own surprise, Spock answered honestly. He gave no details and certainly no names, but he confessed to being a participant to intimate acts he neither desired nor invited.

Pike listened, his face growing steadily darker, and Spock asked himself if he made a mistake. But Pike only shook his head, looking at him in a way Spock had never seen before and therefore couldn't identify.

'I wish you filed a complaint back then,' the captain said finally. 'People who can't control themselves like that have no place in Starfleet.'

'Then you believe I did provoke them,' Spock said quietly. 'I am to blame.'

'Spock.' Pike stood up, walked around his desk and stopped in front of Spock, looking downward at him. Slowly, Spock lifted his eyes to meet his. Pike's hands seemed to move of their own volition, cupping Spock's face gently. 'You have every right to be who you are. You are not responsible for the effect you have on some people just by being... you.' Pike smiled. Then, his expression grew serious again. 'Saying 'no' is all you have to do. People who can't accept it should be in jail. You're not some kind of walking abomination, Spock. You're just...'

Spock didn't find out, however, who he was, because at that moment, Pike had apparently noticed that his thumbs were rubbing gently at the soft skin of Spock's temples. In all that time, Spock never tensed, never shied away from the touch. He remained completely relaxed, looking up at his captain, who was also his friend, with nothing but trust and a mute request for reassurance.

'God, you don't know when you're... like that... damn.'

Pike let go of him and stepped away hastily. Before Spock, who was extremely confused and worried that he'd done something wrong, could ask what had happened, the captain asked him to leave, claiming fatigue.

Spock was still very puzzled and concerned the next day, but it quickly passed as he noted that the captain's behavior toward him remained unchanged. They still met in the captain's quarters as usual. The only difference was that Spock had never seen Pike drinking any alcohol in his presence from then on.

Teaching at the Academy was a whole new experience. Much like on the ship, Spock found his authority accepted without question, but it was quite unusual to be in the focus of that much attention. It was a surprising discovery that most of the cadets who signed up for his class were slightly intimidated by him. He couldn't fathom what it was about him that made them feel this way, but when they looked at him, mostly he saw respect and a great deal of desire to prove themselves. If there was any resentment, it wasn't for him personally, but mostly for the fact that he was one of the most uncompromising professors on the board.

Then of course, there was Uhura.

Spock noticed a very serious, very hardworking female cadet in his class almost at once, though he couldn't immediately pinpoint what made her so different. Sometime during the second month of her being present in his class, he caught himself wondering what her smile might look like. It was then that he realized that she never smiled in class.

Her talents for his subject became apparent almost instantly, and Spock found himself calling on her more often than on others – just to give his ears the relief of hearing a perfectly pronounced word or phrase. She accosted him several times with requests for additional information, and he had never found himself so eager to help. She was always correct around him, always carrying herself with an air of quiet dignity that eluded most humans and would have made a Vulcan proud.

When four months later he saw her between classes laughing with her friends, Spock was totally put out by the sight. It confused him that she was so relaxed with others, yet so reserved around him. He was puzzled and hurt to an extent, all the warnings his logic was issuing notwithstanding.

And then finally it clicked. She wasn't deliberately cold with him because she didn't like him. She acted more somber and composed because he was a Vulcan and she wanted _him_ to like _her_. Next time she stayed after classes with another inquiry, Spock put his hypothesis to test. He smiled at her, very, very subtly. And was rewarded by a somewhat surprised, but definitely happy smile in return.

As they were both professionals who took their duties very seriously, that was as far as they progressed before the Narada. After the Narada, his resolve broken, his control in tatters, he melted into her arms and allowed her to hold him. They made love every moment they could on their way back to Earth, mostly because Spock couldn't sleep and while awake and not on duty, he didn't want to have to think.

During several short weeks they spent on Earth, they sought refuge at Spock's place, a small apartment he rented near the Academy, every moment they were not required for a debriefing or some other work.

It was a strange time for Spock. He was numb with the pain of his loss, not even trying yet to assimilate the death of nearly six billion Vulcans. There were the empty halls of the Academy. There was his mother. He felt numb with grief, and at the same time, totally against any logic, he was happy. It was a small share, but it was his first taste of pure happiness.

He was loved. Not as a husband maybe, he could tell that it wasn't the overpowering uncompromising romantic love Nyota felt for him. But it was deep sincere love nevertheless. He was her friend and he could feel her compassion every time they touched. Every time he sank into her, her body was telling him, _This is what I can give you, take it, you need it_.

And he did take it. Gratefully because it was offered. Gratefully even more because it wasn't some kind of sacrifice. She loved being with him, even if she wasn't in love with him. Even if she knew that they couldn't continue. Spock was considering leaving Starfleet. Uhura tried to make him change his mind.

She brought it up again several days after Kirk's promotion was confirmed. They were lying in Spock's bed, the hazy warmth of the post-coital bliss still hovering over them, when Uhura stirred, lifting herself up on her elbows to look into her lover's face.

'He's asking about you, you know,' she said, playing with Spock's chest hair. 'Kirk,' she clarified, correctly reading his lifted eyebrow.

Inexplicably, Spock felt a surge of irritation. He frowned.

'It is not my concern if he wishes to waste his time asking about me. I believe I have already given him enough opportunities to gloat.'

'I don't think he wants to gloat,' she remarked calmly. 'I'm pretty sure he wants you as his first officer.'

Spock dislodged her gently and sat up, his annoyance getting the better of him.

'He could not possibly want me as his first officer. He has no respect for my opinion. And we do not... get along.'

She snorted at that. 'Well, you know what they say, Spock. Opposites attract.'

'That is illogical.'

'But not necessarily untrue. Unless, of course, you still want to choke him.'

He looked at her reproachfully.

'Nyota...' Spock shook his head and admitted, 'I do not know what to make of him. He performed admirably during a crisis, however, there is more to leadership than one heroic action. It is not every officer who can become a captain like admiral Pike.'

'Well, that's pretty big shoes to fill,' Uhura shrugged. 'For anyone. But you know, much as I hate to admit it, I think Kirk has it in him. I don't have to like it, but the guy is a natural leader.'

Spock looked at her suspiciously.

'How is it you are suddenly so enamored with him?'

That earned him a pillow in the face, as Uhura got up and headed for the bathroom.

'I'm not enamored with him,' she threw across her shoulder. 'I'm just saying I think he can make it. But I'd feel a lot safer with you on board in case he doesn't.'

'You understand,' he said, quickly following her and stopping in the doorway, 'that if you and I are part of the same chain of command—'

'We won't be able to continue like this,' she nodded, turning back to him for a moment. 'I know, Spock,' she said, as her arms slid around his waist. 'But if you join the new colony, we'll lose it anyway.' She stood up on her toes and kissed him softly. 'I'll always love you, you know. One friend I'll treasure above all others.'

'I am honored.' He pressed his forehead against hers. 'I have not made my decision yet.'

'Well, think about it,' she said. 'That's all I ask.'

They ended up in the shower together. Spock exited first, leaving his lover-to-be-friend to reapply her makeup and get her beautiful hair under control. That was when the buzzer sounded.

Spock opened the door, without any kind of supposition at the ready as to the visitor's identity. For some reason, seeing Jim Kirk standing there didn't surprise him. To his credit, Kirk didn't bat an eye seeing the Vulcan in baggy jeans and a half-buttoned shirt.

'Can I come in?'

Silently, Spock stepped aside, letting him in.

'To what do I owe the pleasure?' Spock asked, somewhat edgily, while Kirk looked around curiously.

'I need to talk to you.'

'So I surmised.'

'You're gonna offer me a drink or something?'

Spock lifted an eyebrow.

'I can make some tea.'

Kirk grimaced. 'Got any coffee?'

'No. However, there is a coffee shop at the corner. You can—'

'I'm fine. I didn't come here to drink coffee anyway.'

Uhura chose that moment to emerge, fully dressed and looking as professional as ever, but there was certainly no mistaking the reason for her being here. And again, Kirk surprised Spock. He made no inappropriate comment, no flat joke; he didn't even smirk at either of them. Instead, he bent his head briefly in polite greeting, as if they were on the bridge of a starship and she was just about to begin her shift.

'Lieutenant.'

She gave him a speculative look, then nodded curtly.

'Spock, I gotta go,' she said. 'Believe it or not, I have an appointment with my grandmother.'

Spock suppressed a smile, knowing her situation.

'I have full confidence in your ability to survive the encounter,' he said, showing her to the door.

'Thanks,' she flashed him a smile before kissing him lightly. 'I'll need it. Think about what I said though.'

'I will.'

Spock turned back to Kirk, one eyebrow on the rise, fully expecting some kind of improper remark now. But Kirk didn't even crack a smile, waiting patiently for Spock to come back.

'You heard about my promotion,' he stated without preamble.

'Indeed. Congratulations, captain.'

'Please.' Kirk made a curt gesture with his hand. 'We're in private. It's Jim.'

'As you wish.'

'Spock. I need a first officer. I want you.'

Spock folded his arms across his chest, regarding him somberly.

'Why?'

'You're obviously qualified. You know the ship. You and I seem to work well together.'

Spock lifted an eyebrow at that, but made no comment.

'Look,' Kirk smiled softly. 'I realize you have no reasons to like me or to agree to my offer. But think about it this way. Starfleet is giving me the ship anyway. Believe it or not, I'm not an over-crazed power-maniac. I relieved you of command because I was right and you weren't, not because I wanted the big chair. You think I have an ego the size of this star system.' He paused and stepped closer to Spock, looking him in the eye intently. 'You may be right. But I know as well as you do that I have a lot to learn.'

There was a beat of silence, as if Kirk expected Spock to confirm his words. Spock merely looked at him, his expression unreadable.

'I can be a great captain, Spock,' Kirk said quietly. 'Call it ego, call it arrogance, but I know that commanding a starship is my first best destiny. I haven't always known that. I do now. I need you to help me get there.'

'Why me?' Spock repeated, not arguing with the rest of Kirk's words. Not that he necessarily agreed or disagreed with them, but destiny was a tricky subject. Vulcans didn't believe in it. Yet, there was some genuine, undeniable truth in Kirk's words.

'I need someone who can tell when I'm crazy and when I'm creative,' Kirk said simply. 'I need someone who can stand up to me when it's the first and support me when it's the second. I need someone who'll see me for what I am, not for what some people think I should be.'

There was something in his words that cut right through Spock. An unvoiced appeal, for what he wasn't certain. But he was affected, very much so, when he heard it, as the echo stirred something within him. An answering need, also undetermined. The feeling lingered for a moment, and then it was gone.

Spock didn't make the decision then, nor did he give any kind of reply. It was only after his conversation with his counterpart from another universe that he finally gave up and did 'what felt right.'

He never regretted it. The atmosphere onboard was different from what he was used to under Captain Pike, but it was strangely comfortable nevertheless. They were admittedly a very strange group of people, but never before did Spock feel the sense of belonging so clearly as he did here.

His fellow officers respected him. His friendship with Nyota blossomed wonderfully. His relationship with Jim was progressing in leaps and bounds, and Spock felt gratified to call the captain his friend. He was in a strange kind of friendship with McCoy. For all their bickering, Spock sensed nothing but good intentions from the doctor.

He felt connected to these people. He felt equal to them. One of them. He didn't want to lose it. Didn't want to go back to what he was – an estranged person, judged by his despicable appearance and genetic quirks. Someone, who deserves noting better than being used to entertain his bored peers.

That was exactly how commodore Stevens made him feel, and Spock tried with all the formidable power of his mind's discipline to dissuade the illogical impression. Certainly, he was reading too much into several strange looks. Besides, he wasn't a young, easily intimidated cadet anymore. He was a high-ranking officer. He was the first officer of this ship. Surely, he could not be treated now as he once was.

The terminal on his desk chimed softly, reminding him that he had fifteen minutes before the formal reception started in the officers' mess. Which meant that Spock had to don his dress-uniform again.

He couldn't tell why the thought disturbed him. It was mere protocol, and he never had any qualms about it before. Unlike McCoy, for one, who couldn't stop complaining. Still, Spock felt uneasy. He chided himself again for allowing his emotions to surface and circumvent his logic and made a resolution to spend an additional hour meditating on the matter.

He looked in the mirror briefly, checking that everything was in order. His clothes were fine, but he hadn't seen that particular haunted expression in his eyes for several years now. It wasn't a welcome sight.

Reasserting his control firmly and pushing his headache to the back of his mind, he left his quarters.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The first sound that greeted him as he entered the officers' mess was a burst of laughter.

Immediately, Spock determined that its source was a group of people consisting of the captain, commodore Stevens, engineer Scott, and, to Spock's surprise, Uhura. Clearly, they had just heard a very amusing joke, and from their respective positions, Spock deduced that it was Stevens who told it. It was also immediately clear to him that Sulu and Chekov, who were the only ones already seated at the long table, were only too eager to join the fun and only didn't out of respect for the brass. Spock noticed McCoy standing alone at the drinks table and glided toward him soundlessly.

"Jesus, Spock," McCoy muttered, as Spock appeared at his elbow unexpectedly. "Really creeping up on people like that."

"My apologies, doctor." Spock looked at the glass McCoy was holding. "What are you making?"

"One _Coolant Leak_ coming right up."

Spock cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I assume that is the name of the drink?"

"No, you pointy-eared hobgoblin, I've got a real coolant leak right here, and the only reason it didn't melt the glass is because we're passing through some freaking spatial anomaly that allows to change the laws of physics."

"I was merely asking."

"Yeah. You want one?"

"You are aware that alcohol does not affect me."

"I'm aware of no such thing." McCoy fixed him with a penetrating stare. "In fact, I've been doing some research. Alcohol does not have the same physiological effect on Vulcans, but it can lower their inhibitions – if the Vulcan in question makes a conscious decision to allow it to."

"Very astute, doctor. Your information is accurate."

"No shit. So," McCoy took a sip of his ominously named cocktail. "Have you ever gotten drunk?"

"Once," Spock admitted, watching the others over McCoy's shoulder. "I did not care much for the experience."

"Well," McCoy smiled dryly as another burst of laughter erupted behind his back. "If you ever want to try again, tonight's the night."

Spock tore his eyes away from the captain and the commodore and looked at the doctor closely.

"Why would you say that?"

McCoy cringed.

"Just a stupid illogical case of human premonition, Spock. And maybe I said that because I would have gotten myself drunk silly if I spent the day with that bag of bearded jokes. Really, popping out of nowhere, walking in like he owns the place..."

Spock didn't need a clarification this time and didn't ask for it. His eyes bored deeper into McCoy's face, searching.

"Doctor... are you jealous?"

McCoy choked on his drink and stared at Spock.

"Guess again, Sigmund. Not every one of us has the maturity rating of a teabag."

"I fail to see how—"

McCoy waved a hand at him and clarified, "I'm not jealous, Spock. I just don't trust this guy."

It was his tone, grumpy but even, that convinced Spock more than his words of the doctor's sincerity. The Vulcan did frown at the last bit, however.

"Why?"

McCoy shrugged, shuffling the liquid in his glass. "I don't think I can fully trust anyone who's grinning like a maniac all the time."

"That is hardly a valid reason, doctor," Spock said, letting his gaze slide toward the other side of the room. Unexpectedly, he saw Kirk staring at him. The captain was smiling and even saying something, clearly answering a joke or a question one of his companions made, but his eyes were fastened on Spock, and there was a rather peculiar expression in them, which Spock couldn't read. The captain appeared to be deep in thought or simply too busy multitasking, because he didn't react to having Spock meet his gaze.

"It's not that easy to put into words," McCoy was saying, and Spock pulled his attention back toward him reluctantly. "He seems like a very open, easy going guy, whom you just can't help but like. There's no way around it. He's pleasant, he's making you laugh, he's familiar, but not that familiar, you know what I'm saying? He's making you feel like you've known him forever, and you'd be telling him all about the first time you had sex and the names of your kids before you know it."

Spock blinked.

"Essentially, you are saying that you don't like him – because you like him too much?" Spock tried to get an elucidation.

McCoy scowled.

"I didn't say I didn't like him. I said I didn't trust him. That's different."

"Indeed," Spock said, a surge of amusement coursing through him. "I must thank you for this most illuminating insight into your illogical thought patterns, doctor. If you can only bring yourself to trust people you do not like, then it does make sense that you would trust me."

McCoy snorted. "Now ya catching on." He clapped Spock on the shoulder. Something in the Vulcan's expression gave him a pause, though. He looked at Spock more closely, and asked in a very different tone, lowering his voice, "How long have you been having this headache?"

Spock looked at him sharply, caught off guard by the doctor's perceptiveness.

"It is of no consequence."

"It looks pretty bad, though, you're white as death," McCoy said. He set his drink on the table and took a hold of Spock's wrist, pressing his fingers against the pulse point.

Spock stiffened, but made no attempt to pull away. Over the time they served together, he got used to McCoy's touch. The doctor only ever touched him for strictly medical reasons, and Spock always marveled at how quickly this irritable, overly emotional human switched to a fully professional mode. His touch was always somewhat cool, clinical, softened by concern.

Spock had determined long ago that McCoy couldn't endure other people's pain very well. Maybe that was what made him such a brilliant physician, despite his somewhat intentional lack of bedside manner. Spock admired that trait in him, which was why he was inclined to allow the doctor some liberties. Like right now, despite his own irritation at McCoy's over-protectiveness.

"I am functional," he assured the frowning human, keeping his voice calm and quiet. "There is no need for concern."

McCoy clearly wasn't buying it, still eyeing him suspiciously. Spock could tell he was itching to reach for his medical scanner.

"You should have come to me if you couldn't take care of it yourself," McCoy chided him grumpily. "Come to think of it, why didn't you take care of it yourself? Headaches are pretty uncommon for you."

"I was... otherwise occupied," Spock answered reluctantly, wishing the doctor would cease this line of questioning. He laid his free hand on McCoy's forearm and disengaged it from his other wrist, gently but firmly. "Please, doctor."

"I would agree when asked so nicely," another voice came unexpectedly, startling them both.

Both McCoy and Spock turned to look at Stevens, who was just passing them on his way to his seat. Engrossed in their conversation, they didn't notice that the others were moving toward the table. Kirk was giving them both a long speculative look, already standing at his seat. The rest of the company was obviously still in continuously good spirits, and Stevens was grinning at them.

"To whatever he asks," Stevens finished, winking at McCoy suggestively.

McCoy only rolled his eyes, as he and Spock moved to take their respective places.

For Spock, the dinner was somewhat of a haze. He wasn't remotely hungry and lost what little was left of his appetite watching the man sitting across from him. He and the commodore sat opposite each other, respectively to Kirk's left and right. Spock's other neighbor was Scotty, and Uhura sat next to Stevens.

The humans were having a rather lively conversation. Stevens seemed to have put some kind of spell over the room. Not that Spock believed in such a thing, but he hadn't seen his colleagues quite so animated for a long time now. The officers' mess rang with laughter every other minute, with Spock naturally being the only one not joining in.

Mostly, the Vulcan just sat quietly, rearranging the contents of his plate in various combinations, as if creating a peculiar piece of mosaic. His headache intensified unpleasantly every time someone raised their voice in excitement or burst out laughing. He could feel Stevens' gaze resting on him every several minutes. Every time Spock looked up to meet it, the commodore smiled at him knowingly, as if he and Spock shared some kind of secret.

The commodore had ordered a _ternalia_, an Andorian dish, which was traditionally consumed without the aid of any kind of cutlery, using one's hands only. Stevens had obviously found it to his liking, hunting down every piece of meat on his plate and then licking the sauce off his fingers, one at a time. He sucked on them until they were clean, shooting smug glances at Spock as if he had provided the Vulcan with an unexpected treat.

Spock stiffened even more, trying to look anywhere but at him. By Vulcan standards, the man couldn't have been more obscene if he sprang on the table and started to undress. But Spock couldn't reprimand him for his eating habits any more than he could excuse himself and leave.

He reminded himself firmly that he had witnessed much more vulgar displays since he left Vulcan all those years ago. This might have been the case of cross-cultural misunderstanding. For all he knew, Stevens might have simply been trying to be polite, looking at Spock rather than ignoring him.

The unbearable evening continued.

"I'd like to propose a toast," Stevens said, getting up to his feet and raising his glass. "To the Enterprise and her crew. I don't think I've ever met a more impressive group of people in my life," he grinned at the table at large, getting flashes of smiles back.

"Easy there, Jake," Kirk said, chuckling. "You'll spoil them."

"Not a chance," Stevens shook his head with conviction. "They're too good for that. Take Mr. Scott here. I'm telling you, Jim, twelve years in Starfleet and I've never met a more creative engineer."

"Aye, really lad, that's too kind," Scotty muttered, but he blushed with pleasure all the same.

"Or Mr. Sulu." Stevens looked at the helmsman sitting next to Scott. "This guy should be giving flying lessons to every pilot in the fleet. Mr. Chekov there," Stevens went on before Sulu could respond. "I'd watch him if I were you, Jim, or someone will steal him from you; really, I've never met anyone who could do that much math in his head in the blink of an eye. Damn handy."

Chekov beamed, blushing furiously.

"Doctor McCoy is, of course, a most efficient surgeon, and I suspect you blackmailed him to get him onto your boat."

McCoy snorted good-naturedly. "Something like that."

"Ms. Uhura," Stevens smiled at her radiantly, "speaks forty alien languages. That's a real treasure you have here, captain."

Kirk grinned at Uhura, who stuck out her tongue at him playfully.

That was when Spock knew he was about to get hit. He could feel a charged gaze settling on him, and looked up, bracing himself for whatever was coming. Stevens was looking him in the eye directly, and while his lips were still stretched in a most charming smile, his eyes weren't touched by its warmth.

"And finally Mr. Spock," Stevens said slowly, deliberate lameness coloring his voice. "The friendliest, most sociable Vulcan I know. With damn lovely eyes, too."

All the air got mysteriously sucked out of Spock's lungs in a split second. He was staring into Stevens' triumphant gaze, oblivious to anything except for the deafening pounding of blood at his temples. Very slowly, he became aware of another sound, drifting across the table.

Laughter.

Of course, Spock thought dully. A friendly Vulcan with lovely eyes. What could be more funny? Particularly as the said Vulcan was easily considered downright anti-social by any sane human he knew. A perfect witticism. Even Spock, with his poor understanding of human jokes, could see the humor. Very funny indeed. Hilarious.

He gritted his teeth and forced himself to remain quiet.

The dinner that couldn't have ended soon enough already turned into a test of his endurance from then on. Every other minute someone would look at Spock and chuckle. Uhura was smiling at him fondly from across the table, but Spock couldn't bring himself to respond even to her.

Finally, they were calling it a night and moving out. Stevens offered his arm to Uhura, being a perfect gentleman, and she accepted with a smile. Spock got up to his feet, wishing nothing better than to get to the privacy of his own quarters as soon as possible. He started for the doors.

"Spock. Stay a moment."

Spock stopped in his tracks and turned to face the captain. The doors slid shut behind his back, leaving just the two of them in the room.

Kirk was still seated, watching his first officer fixedly. Spock didn't think he could take any more jokes at his expense tonight, but Kirk was the captain and whatever he had in store for him, Spock would have to endure it.

"Are you all right?" Kirk asked him quietly.

Spock winced. He hadn't expected the question.

"I fail to see the reason for your inquiry," he said, a little surprised at how flat his voice sounded.

Kirk raised his eyebrows.

"Well, for one, you haven't touched your food. For another, I haven't heard a word from you the entire evening. And it's not every day that you allow Bones to manhandle you in public, unless of course your relationship has changed in ways I wouldn't care to know about. What's going on?"

Spock was momentarily taken aback. He hadn't noticed that the captain was paying him that much attention. During the dinner, Kirk seemed perfectly content and self-centered as usual.

"Nothing is 'going on,' captain," Spock responded cautiously. "I am quite all right."

Kirk scrutinized him for another minute, then got up to his feet and walked over toward him, stopping within a foot. He folded his arms across his chest, looking at Spock sternly.

"In that case, I'd like to hear some explanations."

"Captain?"

"Come on, Spock, don't play dumb. Yes and no answers the entire evening? You're lucky Jake has such a light disposition, because I gotta tell you, if _I_ was treated that way, I'd be pretty offended now."

"Sir, I — I meant no disrespect."

"Then what the hell was that all about? He's been trying to get to know you better, and you've been scowling at him all evening, like he's got something nasty on his face or something. You've been downright rude to him, Spock. I'm surprised at you."

"Captain, I... You are correct, of course. My behavior has been inexcusable. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't." Kirk scowled at him some more, then relented slightly. "Spock, just because Jake's my friend doesn't mean we have this inspection in the bag. It's very important that we pass, for me and for all of us. Everything counts."

"I understand, sir," Spock said, controlling his expression tightly.

"Look." Kirk touched Spock's elbow lightly. "I'm not asking you to abandon decades of Vulcan training or anything. Just – be you, you know? You're not like this with us. I haven't seen you rigid like this since – well, ever. Jake's a really good guy, once you get to know him. He saved my life once when I was a kid."

Spock lifted an eyebrow at that, curious in spite of himself.

"I would be interested to know how it occurred."

Kirk grinned, but averted his eyes as if embarrassed.

"Some other time," he said and looked at Spock with renewed strictness. "Right now we have an inspection to pass."

"Yes, sir."

As Kirk went back to his quarters, Spock excused himself to check with the bridge. For some reason, he felt reluctant to settle for the night. He needed the meditation desperately, but felt something akin to trepidation thinking about what it might reveal. He was never a coward, though. And the captain was right, they did have an inspection to pass. His ship and his captain needed him at his best, and he knew well what he had to do to give it.

He set up his meditation candles around his usual spot, the mild scent of jasmine and cinnamon calming him on a physiological level. He sat quietly for a while, just breathing, trying to ease his mind, thinking of nothing. When he felt relaxed enough, he allowed his thoughts to drift toward the events of the day.

He was overreacting; he could feel it. He had allowed his own insecurities and doubts to cloud his judgment. He thought he had dealt with those a long time ago, but it appeared that he had been deluding himself.

The destruction of his planet, the death of his mother, all the drastic changes that had come during that past year, all this was so much to cope with that everything else was pushed away to the periphery, to be dealt with later. Even if he had had the time, it felt selfish, most shamefully so, to concentrate on his personal issues, while the very matter of existence as he knew it had changed forever.

Now that he finally had the time, he realized with a good measure of self-irony that he had been avoiding the issue for some time, hoping irrationally that it would go away by itself. How very human of him.

Nyota tried to tell him. Not a while ago, they were on a diplomatic mission to Terados, a planet with such large deposits of dilithium that it was vital to bring them into the Federation. They had succeeded, and it was during the celebration planetside that the issue arose.

Spock had, apparently, caught the eye of one of the governor's aides, a lovely female with long honey-gold hair and a soft smile. Spock was oblivious until Uhura tactfully pointed it out to him. Spock looked at the girl. She was quite stunning. He couldn't see any reason for her interest in him other than him being new and exotic, as the planet had no previous contact with the Federation or any of its species. Curiosity was logical.

He told Uhura as much. She stared at him for a long moment. Then she said in a most enigmatic manner, 'Spock, Keenser is new and exotic, too, but I don't see a queue of people wishing to sleep with him.'

'His position on the ship is not as high as mine,' Spock replied. 'You are aware that power is a potent aphrodisiac.'

'Then why isn't she mooning over the captain?'

'Perhaps she believes he would be less attainable.'

'Let me get this straight,' Uhura stared at him incredulously. 'You think you look easy?'

'That is a logical assumption, given my experience. I am only approached when people are... in need and have no better options.'

'You can't possibly believe in that.'

'That is of no consequence, I assure you. There is an order to all things and I know my place in it.'

'Spock, there is no 'order' to love and attraction.'

'Not from your perspective.'

And that was true. Nyota was so high in this order, she didn't even know the lower levels existed. The murky, bleak levels, where the likes of him dwelled. It didn't matter that he had a high profile job, or that his IQ rivaled the Federation's top scientific minds. When it came to the most personal, the most intimate relationships, it mattered very little indeed.

It was true that he was betrothed once. But T'Pring didn't want him for her mate. She only accepted him because he was of the House of Surak, and her family wanted to heighten their status. Spock didn't fool himself. Even if T'Pring did survive the destruction of Vulcan, with the old clan system gone – there were simply too few Vulcans left to maintain it – he would have lost his only attractive feature in her eyes. It would have been inevitable. She never hid her views on the matter.

Ironically, it was a human metaphor that he found most applicable to define his position. Beggars can't be choosers. Not that he begged for attention or anything, but he knew that if he wanted it, that would be what he'd have to do. If he didn't want it, well. His place was to give, not to take. He'd do well to remember that.

And yet he dreamed. During that last year, he had become much more closely acquainted with his human half than ever before. That part made him think (if never say) things like 'I want' where 'I need' would have sufficed. It made him reach out, in the privacy of his own thoughts only, to another person, someone he had come to cherish.

Jim Kirk had been in the focus of his thoughts for many months. Spock wasn't aware if a more lovable, more desirable being existed anywhere in the universe, but he highly doubted that. The very fact that he dared dream about Jim was bordering on sacrilege, even if he was careful enough not to let it show.

He trusted Jim. From that first time on the Narada. _'I'll cover you.' – 'Are you certain?' – 'Yeah, I got you.'_ He trusted Jim then instinctively, and Jim never failed him.

But Jim did more than that. The smiles, the teasing, the concern. Battles fought together. Shared silences. Shared pain. Shared risks and responsibilities. The conversations and the looks. The closeness. Jim's tired grin at the end of the day. A sympathetic hand on his shoulder. The _presence_.

Spock enjoyed playing chess with Jim very much, because the game allowed him to come in touch with that brilliant, mesmerizing mind. He enjoyed their sparring sessions in the gym, because he could touch Jim then, feel the blatant abundance of life boiling in this dynamic human literally beneath his hands as he grappled with his captain.

Spock's strength, reflexes and training ensured his advantage, but he did lose sometimes and he loved those times best. Seeing Jim's blazing triumphant smile was pure joy. Given a choice, Jim would pin him down rather than throw him, and the emphasized bodily victory would make him assume such an endearingly smug look that Spock would have a very hard time keeping his own smile in check.

He enjoyed Jim's company much more than he should have, Spock thought miserably. And he let his untamed feelings take him too far. They made him forget his place. In Spock's own internal hierarchy, Jim was as high as they got, while Spock was at the very bottom. A star and its reflection in a muddy pool of water. He should never have forgotten his place.

Then Jim wouldn't have been forced to remind him.

Spock stood up and blew out the candles. Jim was correct, Spock should put his personal misgivings aside and make the commodore's stay as pleasant as possible. Doctor McCoy was probably correct, too, Spock was way touchier than he was supposed to be. Than he had the right to be, Spock amended to himself. He must concentrate on his duties and leave more personally gratifying areas to those who did deserve it.

He disrobed quickly and pulled off the sheets, as he always did before stepping into the shower to let the ambient temperature in the room warm his bed. Nyota once suggested jokingly that he should acquire a bed warmer. For an odd moment, Spock believed that the object he saw lying on his bed was exactly that, but the moment and the illusion passed quickly. He reached down and took it in his hands.

Spock had never before held such a thing in his hands, but he knew instantly what it was. To coin a phrase from his shipmates, it didn't take a genius to uncover its function.

It was a vibrator.

An apparatus used for sexual stimulation, his mind supplied readily. A device he never used to have, nor wished for. And finally, something that should never have found its way into his quarters and into his bed without his knowledge.

Automatically more than out of curiosity, Spock flipped it over to observe it from the other side. That was when he discovered the inscription. A precise if somewhat sloppy writing.

_Get ready for me_

Spock darted a frightened look around his quarters, as if expecting to discover he wasn't alone. His heart threatening to beat out of his chest, his hands going cold and clumsy, Spock tried to get his breathing back under control. He wasn't prone to panic attacks. He was still a Vulcan, however inadequate. He would not allow it.

He knew he was outmatched. There was no use to search for fingerprints or to check the security access log to his quarters. He knew who was behind the 'gift,' and he also knew he'd lost before he made his move. Humans would find this incident funny, and he was known for his inability to take a joke. The person who left this thing here knew perfectly well what he was doing.

Spock closed his eyes, feeling exposed and vulnerable, and quite helpless to prevent it. He stumbled toward the waste chute to dispose of the repulsive gift. He looked back at the bed and swallowed.

There would be no sleep for him tonight. One way or another.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I'm very sorry about the delay, the site just won't let me upload my doc-files. :( Also, if you received two (or more) notes from me or none at all, I apologize, I have no idea why this is happening. In any case, you guys rock, thank you for the support!!!

Chapter 4

For Kirk, the night after the reception was strangely restless. He tossed and turned in his bed, unable to coax himself into sleep, despite the booze that always made him sleepy. His mind kept coming back to the conversation with Spock, and he frowned and grunted, displeased with himself.

It occurred to him that he was more harsh than he should have been. Really, what was Spock's crime? So he didn't laugh at the joke – well, Spock never laughed at anything. And if the humorous twinkle in his eye that Kirk was now used to spotting from time to time was missing – where was the guarantee that he hadn't imagined it in the first place on all those previous occasions? From the first days of their mission, listening to Bones cursing Spock's cold-bloodiness, Kirk promised himself he'd never reproach Spock for being a Vulcan. Wasn't it exactly what he'd done just now?

_Fuck_.

He sat up in his bed, shoving the rumpled sheets away irritably. No sleep for him tonight it seemed. Knowing better than to try and wait it out, he hauled himself into the shower.

What was his fault, really? He only wanted Spock to like Jake. Well, not _like_ like, obviously, but just not give him a hard time. It wasn't 'cause of the fucking inspection, for God's sake. He told Spock Jake had saved his life, and it was true, though Kirk preferred not to dwell on the circumstances. God forbid, Spock would ever find out. Fifteen years had passed, and Kirk still felt like total shit because of that one.

Still, this was such a shitty timing for everything. During that last year, Kirk had barely had time to breathe. Normally, an 'experimental' crew like theirs would have been assigned to the milk runs for at least a year before they'd be trusted with anything important. But that was the luxury Starfleet could no longer afford, not with half the fleet lost fighting off Nero.

Nobody at the admiralty trusted Kirk, save maybe Pike, but there was no guarantee of that, either. And yet they were forced to let him handle the big stuff, because the simple truth was, there was no one else. The Federation was a huge body to govern and suddenly losing half the fleet didn't help matters.

There was no time for him to prove himself; there was just a job to be done, and no right to make mistakes. He hadn't. He gritted his teeth and pulled off one impossible assignment after another, without the benefit of experience a seasoned officer would have. Kirk knew he'd never have made it without his crew, particularly without Spock. It was teamwork through and through, and he was proud, really proud, of being able to build a team here.

Ostensibly, the admiralty's shitty attitude was a small price to pay, but he couldn't help it. He got the fucking job done. He'd done more in that one year than other captains managed in ten. He deserved some measure of respect, dammit. He paid for it with his blood – and with the blood of his people. He didn't want the laurels, but he was entitled to some fucking acknowledgment.

And yet, his every success was called beginner's luck, or worse yet, they thought he'd somehow cheated again. Everyone else was entitled to a little screw-up every now and then, because, obviously, they were only humans. He, Kirk, on the other hand, wasn't allowed to make the slightest blunder without it being blown completely out of proportion – because he wasn't just another starship captain, he was 'that kid with a bad attitude and no experience who ended up in the captain's chair by mistake.' He hated not being taken seriously. Getting fucking _grades_ for his performance was _humiliating_.

Having them sent Jake was a consolation of sorts. At least, Jake wouldn't look at him as at a spoilt brat sitting in the daddy's chair. He owed Jake, from back then, and he wanted to make his stay pleasant. Given that his first officer would spend the most time with the inspector by definition, it was a really shitty time for Spock to get all super-Vulcan again.

Still, Kirk felt bad for chiding him. It didn't feel right. He wouldn't like Spock being cold with Jake, but he would like Spock being cold with _him_ even less.

That didn't seem to happen, though. When Jake came onto the bridge the next morning, sending sly grins to all of his dinner companions who were so obviously suffering from hangover, Spock was standing next to Kirk, giving him his customary ship's status report and Kirk got to see his reaction.

Jake came over, wishing an 'especially good morning to Commander Lovely Eyes.' Around them, people snickered, and Kirk had a hard time stifling a laugh himself. Half the ship was drooling over Spock, but to have someone hitting on him so openly and for purely comical reasons was priceless. Spock didn't bat an eyelash, simply returning the greeting in his polite manner, and the conversation derived from there. Apparently, Spock had taken Kirk's words to heart. When he and the commodore left for a more detailed tour of engineering, Kirk could actually be confident that the encounter wouldn't result in an outbreak of Vulcan violence.

He shook his head, thinking. Spock needed to relax more, and Jake seemed like a perfect opportunity. Kirk knew that his friend had a thing for teasing, and as any life-of-the-party, Jake couldn't resist the temptation of Spock. A stoic Vulcan was a challenge for the best of them, as the chances of him cracking up were practically nil. Still, it would be fun to watch this chase.

It might provide the crew with a distraction, too, Kirk mused. Half the crew _did_ watch the Vulcan with hungry eyes, like he was a rare delicacy and they hadn't eaten in a year. Spock was incredibly attractive, and his unbreakable stoic demeanor only added fuel to the flames. But none of them dared come close to him, and Kirk thought he couldn't blame them.

He himself had become aware of his attraction to Spock almost from the start. At the Kobayashi Maru hearing where they met, Kirk was too incensed with him and then it all was kind of hectic. Otherwise, the warning bells would have been ringing in his head all along. Yelling at Spock was perversely exciting, but it was when Spock beamed back from Vulcan, just before it collapsed into a black hole, that Kirk first realized he was in trouble.

As Spock stood on the transporter pad, his arm outstretched toward a woman who was wiped out of existence, it was all Kirk could do not to spring forward and hug him, and never let the fuck go. The impulse ran through him like an electrical current, and it shocked him how strong it had been.

Later, on the bridge, after Spock released his hold on Kirk's throat and relinquished command, Kirk so hated himself, he didn't have words for it. He should have been triumphant, after all, he'd been dreaming about commanding a starship only since he was three or so. Instead, he felt lower than a Denibian slime devil, like the lowest form of life ever setting foot (or tentacle) in this universe. The only thing that stood between Spock and his grief just then was him being in command, and Kirk took that away from him, shoving him into the boiling pot of misery and despair headfirst. He knew Spock had forgiven him for that, but he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to forgive himself.

The rumor that Spock planned to resign from Starfleet nearly caused a panic attack. He went to Spock's apartment to ask him to reconsider. He wasn't planning on begging, his pride protesting loudly against such a drastic option, but coming face to face with that Spock, not an unbearable, arrogant, self-assured commander, but a suffering, tortured being whose heart was bleeding raw, Kirk knew he'd do anything. He'd beg, plead, threaten and kill, he'd do _anything at all_ to make Spock feel better. It didn't come to that, but he was ready.

That was when he knew.

As surely as that his name was James Tiberius Kirk, he knew he was in love with Spock, and it wasn't something light, something casual. It was all freaking kinds of once-in-a-lifetime, till-death-do-us-part, I-will-die-if-it-makes-you-happy love. He pushed it vehemently to the back of his mind, but it was still there, glowing like embers, waiting for the chance to go aflame.

He didn't have the chance to build any kind of relationship, which was probably lucky, 'cause he'd so totally suck at this. It all kind of happened by itself, somewhere between covering each other's backs, struggling through _piles_ of gruesome paperwork, cuddling together for fucking warmth planetside, pressing desperate fingers to open wounds, fucking _praying_ to any deity who might hear for a rescue, and spotting glimpses of emotions in those ensorcelling, I-so-fucking-totally-own-your-soul eyes.

Jesus fucking Christ. Until he looked into Spock's eyes, he didn't know he even _had_ a soul to lose.

Kirk had it bad and he knew it. He was determined not to let it show. Apparently, though, he was doing a lousy job, at least where Bones was concerned. But Bones didn't know how bad he got it; Bones thought it was a fling, a fucking fancy that would come and go. Bones didn't know he was _dying_ every time Spock got hurt. And he was jealous as hell, seeing all those dignitaries and diplomats lusting after his first officer. He himself had gotten propositioned often enough to know how fucking persuasive they could get.

Dammit, fuck dignitaries, he was jealous as hell seeing Bones and Spock even, and how crazy was that? Being jealous of your best friend was pathetic to shame all pathetic in the whole fucking galaxy. And yet seeing Bones holding Spock's wrist, standing so close to him and talking in low voices was anything but pleasant.

Spock wasn't a touchy type, for which Kirk was privately grateful. Still, it hurt sometimes seeing Bones and Uhura touching Spock so casually, so _easily_. He himself touched Spock a lot, because _he_ wasn't a Vulcan, _he_ was all touchy-feely kind of guy; and mostly because he just couldn't help himself.

Yet, when Bones or Uhura, or anyone else for that matter, touched Spock, he didn't seem to wince or stiffen as he did with Kirk. It didn't happen always, though. When Spock saw Kirk was about to touch him, it never happened. But when he wasn't expecting it, a simple hand on his shoulder would inevitably make him flinch, however lightly, as if Kirk had hit him with a jolt of static electricity. Kirk would grit his teeth and pretend not to notice, but it hurt, dammit. It hurt. It made him feel like he was some kind of leper.

He didn't know what to do about any of it. Spock Prime told him he and Spock were supposed to be the best of friends, but instead of being happy with the news, Kirk felt so very down. He wanted to be friends with Spock, no shit. It was just that he wanted to be so much more than that. If the old Vulcan saw what he was really feeling for Spock, he'd probably have a Vulcan equivalent of a heart attack.

He didn't have much time to dwell upon it, though. He could count the weeks that could be labeled as 'undisturbed routine' with the fingers on one hand. Boredom was the word unknown onboard his vessel, though he wouldn't go as far as to call their usual business entertainment, either.

Jake coming aboard was a much desired change of pace. The week starting with his arrival unfolded much to Kirk's satisfaction. Mostly, his old pal just hung around various departments, chatting with people and lightening everyone's mood. Kirk knew there was real work being hidden there, somewhere. But he was more than happy with Jake's approach.

It was late in the beta shift when Kirk walked into the mess hall, dreaming of a club sandwich. McCoy, who had been monitoring his meal card and had an annoying habit of disapproving of anything Kirk chose, had significantly restricted Kirk's options. Kirk was tempted more than once to simply hack the replicators' computer, but refrained every time. He was the captain now. He had to show some responsibility.

He settled down with a bowl of something called grilled-beef-with-pickled-mushrooms-and-shut-up and started to extract the cutlery from the containment of a napkin when he heard an outraged exclamation.

"No way! I'd never believe Spock said that!"

Understandably curious, Kirk raised his head in search of the speaker. He recognized the voice immediately, of course, but it took him a moment to locate Sulu. Obviously he and his companion or companions were seated on the other side of the table divider, a thin plastic grate, covered in artificial ivy. The room designer clearly considered it beneficial to bestow a more 'private' air on at least half of the area where the intimate process of consuming food took place.

"And I'm telling you, I heard it myself," Chekov's voice sounded, the sharper notes screaming of his annoyance at not being believed. "The commodore said, 'You have a killer body,' and Meester Spock said, 'I hope you will not have the chance to find out how literally correct you are.' I'm not making this up!"

"Chekov, you're pulling my leg," Sulu said, but he was laughing.

"I'm novhere near your leg and vhy vould I vant to—"

"Shh, Pasha, it's an expression," Uhura joined in, laughing also. "Spock really said that? Damn, I'm sorry I missed it."

"What did the commodore say to that?" Sulu asked.

"He said, 'I hope I will.'"

"Ouch, danger," Uhura chuckled.

"The commodore is always so obscene around Meester Spock," Chekov said.

"Oh, come on, Pav, it's just for fun," Sulu said. "It's not like he took Spock's hand again... Or did he?"

"Nah, but he did grab his shoulder vhen they got up."

"From where?" Uhura wanted to know.

"The deck, they were checking the transporter controls."

"Nitpicky. For an inspection," Sulu clicked his tongue.

"No shit," Uhura said. "On the one hand, I'm happy they're done with Communications, but on the other I miss the show."

"Yeah," Sulu was clearly grinning. "It's not every day you get to see Spock sugarcoated like that. The commodore's just precious. I'm pretty sure he knows every pick-up line from here to Antares."

"And he's using them all on Spock," Uhura added, giggling. "Serves him right, maybe he'll finally learn how to flirt."

"I think Meester Spock is just taking it all literally," Chekov said. "I don't think he can flirt."

"Oh, come on!" Sulu protested. "Have you ever seen him with the Captain?"

Kirk, who was pretty flushed by that point already, nearly choked on his food.

"Doesn't count," Uhura said.

"Why not? They flirt like there's no shame or anything."

"Yes, but it's the Captain who's doing most of it," Uhura pointed out. "Spock's merely tagging along. Which is progress, of course, come to think of it, but still not quite getting there."

"Vhat are you two talking about?" Chekov demanded, and Kirk wholeheartedly supported his indignant inquiry. "The Keptin flirts with Meester Spock?"

"Don't take it to heart, Pav, the Captain flirts with anything that moves."

_Now really!_ Kirk nearly shouted. _What the hell?!_

"Yes, but he vouldn't with Meester Spock. He's not crazy."

"Aha," Uhura's tone was mocking. "_'Spock, what do you say if we deal with these bastards first and pick up the china later?' 'Spock, is that your phaser or should I be very flattered?' 'Spock, I'm going to my quarters and don't tell me you have a headache.' _Not crazy enough? Please."

"That last one was pretty cool, though," Sulu remarked casually. "I'll bet Spock still hasn't figured it out."

"The Captain is so lame," Uhura said. "Beats me why half my class slept with him."

Kirk buried his burning face in his palms. Uhura was damn right, how much more obvious could he get? Oh fuck. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck..._

It probably wasn't for his verbal skills," Sulu said.

Kirk pushed his bowl away and got up determinedly. He didn't think he could get out of the room quickly enough. He hadn't been this humiliated in his life and that was fucking telling.

"Bones!" He yelled, stumbling into sickbay. "Bones!"

"What's with the shouting, Jim?" McCoy called back from his office. "Are you dying or something? Oh my God, what happened to your face? You look like you walked into a frying pan."

"I just might have! Does the whole crew think I'm some kind of man whore?"

McCoy stared at him.

"Not that I've noticed. Though you are known for your... how shall I put it? Open mind."

Kirk groaned. McCoy smirked.

"What happened, Jim?"

"I'm not sure I want to tell you." Kirk dropped into a chair. "What's this I hear about Jake and Spock?"

McCoy frowned slightly.

"Depends on what you heard. Basically, I'd say the commodore is like all over your first officer."

Kirk stared at him.

"But that's just a joke, right? I mean, Jake can't really be trying to bang him."

McCoy gave him a long piercing look and asked calmly, "Why not?"

Kirk choked on the air he was trying to inhale.

"Spock's a Vulcan!"

"So? It doesn't mean he's dead, does it?"

"You're serious..." Kirk whispered, shocked.

"Jim," McCoy sighed. "What the hell is your problem? Can't Spock have a little fun? You're the one who said he needed to relax more. Well, he's relaxing."

"He's relaxing?" Kirk yelled, outraged. "During an inspection?"

"He's not the one who started it."

"I don't fucking care! I'm working my ass off to make us look good and Spock found nothing better to do than to get laid?"

"Jim—"

"That's why he stopped playing chess with me or having fucking meals – because he's found a new toy!"

"Jim—"

"I never thought he'd ditch me like that, that fucking pointy-eared bastard!"

"_Captain_, that's enough!" McCoy slammed his fist into his desk. "Get a grip on yourself, for God's sake! I never said Spock was sleeping with him!"

Kirk stared at him, brought out of his fit abruptly.

"Oh."

"That's right, 'oh.' Take a deep breath, dammit, before I sedate you."

Kirk slumped back into his chair, enervated.

"Sorry," he breathed out. "I didn't mean to yell."

"I can tell." McCoy glared at him. "I haven't seen a jealous rage like that since my goddamn divorce. For fuck's sake, Jim, you're a grown man, start acting it. Tell Spock how you feel and get this shit out of the way before we all go nuts here."

Kirk blinked.

"Does the whole ship know how I feel about Spock?" he asked quietly.

McCoy smirked nastily. "Oh, not the _whole_ ship, Jim. I'm pretty sure Spock hasn't got a clue."

"Right," Kirk sighed and closed his eyes. After a pause, he said with feeling, "I'm so screwed."

McCoy snorted. "You know, part of me is really enjoying this."

"That's because you're a mean old bastard."

"That, and the fact that it serves you right to have a little heartache. Kind of payback for all those hearts you've broken."

"I always knew you became a doctor because you like seeing people suffer."

"Stop whining, Jim."

"I'm not whining."

"You're whining like a baby. Can I ask you something? How did you manage to fall in love with a Vulcan of all people?"

Kirk groaned. "You're asking that like I had a choice or something."

McCoy laughed. "Oh, get the hell out of my office, Jim. I'm enjoying myself too much, it's not healthy."

Kirk stood up. "You're such a bastard."

"Said the pot to the kettle."

Kirk strode out of sickbay feeling slightly better. Bones was right. This might be the toughest thing he'd ever done, including beating Nero, but he had to tell Spock, or he'd simply explode.

Worst case scenario, Spock would tell him he didn't love him back. That sure would suck, but at least he'd know where he stood. Spock was nothing if not a man of integrity. He'd never shy away from being Kirk's friend just because he'd find out about Kirk's feelings. Spock remained friends with Uhura. Surely, Kirk wasn't any less capable of handling it than she was. After all, they were both professionals.

And besides... His heart skipped a beat. There was always that tiny spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, Spock felt the same way...

It was this hope that added spring to Kirk's step as he made his way to Spock's quarters. It was this same hope that died horribly, nearly choking him, when he entered Spock's room and found his first officer on his knees in front of Commodore Stevens, working with his usual measure of efficiency to open his zipper.


	5. Chapter 5

Warning: Yes, language is going to get worse. Because tempers are flaring and people are yelling.

Chapter 5

Spock didn't believe in human superstitions. Given that Vulcans didn't have superstitions of their own, he didn't believe in those, either. But when it came down to describing his current state of existence, nothing but a highly illogical human metaphor seemed to fit.

It was a week from hell.

He didn't have any sleep. Not the first night, not all the other nights. No other objects appeared in his quarters without his knowledge, but there was no need. Stevens was everywhere, wherever Spock went, and he was, as humans would put it, all over Spock.

The touches. Would-be casual, but too many, far too many. The way the commodore brushed against him at every opportunity. The way he grabbed Spock's hand. The way his legs would slide against Spock's under the table in the mess. The way his hand would slide down Spock's back in an ostensibly friendly gesture.

What with the lack of sleep and meditation, Spock's shielding was poor at best, and he was suffocating in the lust the man was pouring over him.

Then, there were the words. Lewd comments which everyone seemed to take as jokes. He would never understand human humor, never. He didn't get it back at the Academy, either. He just never thought, after so many years, that he'd hear once again that his ass was a walking invitation to come aboard.

It certainly wasn't the first for him, being perceived as a sexual object and nothing else. What he couldn't figure out was why. For his classmates, it might have been a hunt for the weakest sheep in the herd, an exercise in dominance as much as a sexual adventure. He didn't have to be attractive for them, just attainable.

But people like Stevens? Why waste time on someone like Spock when the whole ship was so receptive? That didn't make any sense. Did the commodore perhaps have a perverse sense of aesthetics? Spock could not understand how anyone could wish to pursue him, when so many more appealing partners were available. That just didn't compute.

Besides, Spock wasn't just a weird Vulcan teenager of no other worth than being an easy way to relieve sexual tension anymore. True, he was never quite accepted by either Vulcans or humans, but hadn't he built a life for himself? Hadn't he taken a stand of his own? He was an accomplished scientist. He was a dedicated Starfleet officer. He carried out his duties and he did it well.

In layman's terms, he earned his keep. Not as a Vulcan, or a human, but as Spock. As an individual, he might still be undesirable, but as a member of the society, he had proved his worth. Why were sexual favors still asked of him as if he had no other virtues? It was not fair. It was illogical. And he would not stand for it.

The captain berated him for being rude, and Spock had adjusted his behavior. He was as civil with the commodore as he could get, ignoring the innuendos flowing his way and the intrusiveness he found so repulsive. Spock would tolerate the man's behavior in public, because he was Jim's friend, and the captain said he owed his life to him. It was also clear that Spock' behavior displeased Jim, and this wasn't easy to accept.

But should Stevens go any further than making lewd passes, Spock wouldn't come along. The captain wanted to make Stevens' stay as pleasant as possible, but surely not at the expense of his first officer. Spock knew Jim. The captain may never condescend to returning Spock's feelings, and Spock was all right with that. He knew his place well, dreams or no. But Jim was his friend, and Spock had witnessed, on numerous occasions, how vehemently Jim defended those he called friends. Jim wouldn't make him do anything that went against his wishes. He could, he certainly had enough power over Spock, even if he didn't know it.

He could. But he wouldn't.

Spock kept telling himself this, remembering the irritated glare Jim had given him after the dinner. Jim wouldn't want to cause him undue discomfort. He had to have faith in that.

Spock gritted his teeth and concentrated on surviving the day. He was aware by the end of the week that he was a wreck. He was exhausted physically and emotionally, his control was in tatters, and he longed equally badly for the relief of being alone and some kindly friendly attention. He was consistently denied either. The captain seemed to distance himself from Spock, obviously still unhappy with him, and the rest of the crew seemed to be completely unaware that he was in trouble.

The only person who exerted some level of sympathy was, in all unlikelihood, Doctor McCoy. And Spock wasn't picky, not by then he wasn't. He would have taken it. He was reaching his limits fast, and was aching for a break, however fleeting. The trouble was, Stevens steered him away the moment McCoy entered the room and fixed his eyes on Spock. Spock was dragged away every time, without fail, before he could so much as respond to the doctor's greeting.

It was in the dead hours of night that Spock paced his cabin restlessly, thinking that maybe he should go see the good doctor while he could. McCoy wouldn't appreciate being woken, but even his grumbling would be a relief. Still, McCoy wouldn't think of Spock as a friend, which meant that should Spock come to him, he would likely tell the captain. And seeking out Jim was out of the question.

Spock wasn't ready for how much he needed Jim. There was no logic in this whatsoever. The human pulled the craziest stunts. He was irrational to boot, genius or no. He was unruly, stubborn, rebellious. He was a challenge to everything Spock believed in. It was illogical, given the sheer number of times when Jim endangered his life and Spock had to pull him out of trouble, it was illogical to a T that Spock should feel so safe with Jim.

Yet he did. Jim seemed to possess an almost mystical ability to steady Spock when he was on the edge of a precipice. Jim would brush his shoulder against Spock's or just look at him, saying something as simple as, 'It'll work.' And Spock would believe him instantly, just as he had on the Jellyfish. At some point, the need to say the words aloud had receded between them. The tiniest moment of contact would be all Spock needed to feel himself capable of miracles.

To have Jim believe in him so uncompromisingly was overwhelming. Indescribable. That faith Jim had in him was frightening and head-spinning. Spock always felt slightly drunk on it, and he couldn't get enough of this particular brand of intoxication. Which would probably explain some of the most unorthodox actions he himself had taken to save the day while his good reasoning and logic were knocked out cold, defeated and helpless. Jim's faith never failed to catch Spock by surprise, because it was just that unfathomable.

He tried to warn Jim once, many months ago. Tried to explain that Jim's belief was ill based. That Spock had nothing in him to warrant it. That all his 'lucky saves' were flukes of statistical improbabilities, unlikely to ever happen again. That one day Spock would inevitably disappoint him. But Jim just grinned at him. _'You haven't yet.'_

And so it went, the two of them, finishing each other's thoughts, completing each other's actions. Spock had never been so strongly drawn to anyone in his life. Sometimes the sheer force of his feelings scared him, and he fought them, tried to suppress them. They were inappropriate, hopeless and dangerous. Like a moth, he was drawn to Jim's flame, hoping beyond hope it would spare him.

Hope, too, was an emotion. Illogical. And faulty.

He was saying good-night to Stevens, weighing silently the probability of him being able to sleep tonight. The commodore, however, seemed to have other plans.

"You never invited me to your quarters, Spock," Stevens said, eyeing him expectantly. "You've been to mine. Time to return the favor."

"Very well." Spock suppressed a sigh. After dealing with this man for a week, he knew his objections would serve only to prolong the encounter. He keyed his door open, hoping the commodore wouldn't take long.

Stevens looked around with a light grimace.

"Kind of laconic, isn't it?" He asked, with a measure of disdain. "I imagined you'd strive for more luxury. To give a proper setting to that gorgeous body of yours."

"Commodore," Spock could barely speak for weariness. "It is inappropriate for you to address me in such a manner."

"And why is that, Spock?" Stevens asked with a wry smile, coming closer. "I only speak the truth. I've been to an Orion brothel once." He put his hand on Spock's shoulder and rubbed the taut muscles roughly. "Those pleasure boys? You'd give them a run for their money."

"Please desist," Spock said, concentrating hard on not pushing the human away. He was certain he would injure him.

"Why should I?" Stevens put his other hand on Spock's other shoulder. "Everyone on this ship has a piece of your ass every now and then. It would be a crime not to. You're obviously willing."

"I am not," Spock stated. He picked Stevens' wrists and pulled them away from his body. "It would be best if you left."

"No," Stevens said and his tone was suddenly stern. He glared at Spock, still standing too close. "You can't possibly think that you could tease me like that the whole week and then just say thanks but no thanks."

"Commodore, I did not—"

"Yes, you did. How dare you deny it now, you cheat? You've been flirting with me, touching me, posing for me whenever you could. Pressing yourself against me like a street whore – really, Commander, I thought you had more class."

"I did not—"

"And now that I'm taking you up on your offer, you're being all cocktease? No fucking way! Nobody pulls that one on me!"

Spock eyed the angry human warily.

"Commodore, if I have inadvertently—"

"Inadvertently?" Stevens snapped. "You Vulcan slut! You'd let anyone else fuck you but me? I don't think so. I just think you like it rough."

With that, he grabbed Spock, bringing him down into a brutal kiss.

Spock reacted on instinct. Before any conscious thought so much as knocked for entrance into his mind, he pushed the human away roughly with one hand, making him stumble backward. Stevens glared at him.

"Assaulting a senior officer, are we?"

"I believe it is you who started the assault, commodore," Spock replied, his voice sounding much calmer than he felt.

Suddenly, Stevens sneered.

"You're right," he said, unclasping his jacket. "You're a Vulcan. You need a logical reason to sleep with somebody, and since I'm not going to be paying you, I might as well give you one." He tossed the jacket aside, revealing his gold undershirt, somewhat wrinkled and stained with sweat. He eyed Spock appraisingly, and even though Spock had gotten used to be undressed with his eyes like that during the last week, he still found it disconcerting. "This inspection is going perfectly," the commodore said.

Spock lifted in eyebrow. "In what way?"

"In every way. I've only spent a week aboard and already I have discovered enough breaches of protocol to cost your captain his lovely golden stripes."

"What?" Spock asked, hardly knowing it. His heart fell, and he was momentarily dazed.

"Oh yes," Stevens smirked at him. "You know regulations as well as I do, Commander. Did you hope I wouldn't notice? The lack of propriety and etiquette in personnel interactions throughout the ship is appalling, but it pales in comparison with the havoc that reins in your engineering department."

"To what are you referring?" Spock asked, with a sinking feeling. "We have all of Mr. Scott's inventions licensed and—"

"Really?" Stevens cut him off with a smirk. "Did he tell you about his little collection of alien artifacts that he'd installed into the Enterprise's engines? Huh? Romulan plasma flaw regulators? Klingon power cells? Cardassian matter injectors? He didn't tell you about those because it's illegal and you'd have forbidden it, but he told me over that ale we shared because he's a genius and wanted to see how it'll all work out together. Pretty well, I must say, but it's still a blatant transgression that happened on Kirk's watch. That alone is enough to get him out of his chair faster than you can say 'warp drive.'

"But that's not the best of it. I've studied the logs and you know what _fascinating_ thing I've discovered? On fifteen separate occasions, Kirk had shared classified information with his senior staff, without getting proper authorization. And that, my Vulcan friend, is a court-martial offence. Care to name the charge?"

"Treason," Spock whispered brokenly. "But commodore, the captain only did it to save lives and ensure the success of the mission."

Stevens sneered at him again.

"Guess what, genius? Doesn't matter. Regulations are severe – no exceptions. You think the admiralty will turn down a chance like that? They've been dreaming on getting Kirk out of that chair for months!"

"That is unjust!" Spock exclaimed, not noticing his tone rising. "The captain has been working harder than any other human I've ever known to fulfill our orders. Our success rating is over 97 percent. Captain Kirk is one of the best officers I have ever served with and an excellent captain!"

"Maybe," Stevens watched him, clearly amused. "But you see, the moment I file the report on my findings here, he'll be finished as an officer. They'll probably bust his ass back to midshipman. That is, of course, if he's not charged and sentenced. In which case, he'll go to jail."

"Why would you do this?" Spock uttered, uncomprehending and alarmed. "It is not fair and you know it. You are his friend."

"I don't let friendships to get in the way of business, it's not professional," Stevens said, leering at Spock. "Besides, I'm willing to reconsider. My report can be as favorable as they get. It all depends on you, Spock. Be nice to me, and your precious captain will come out of it right as rain."

For a moment, Spock pondered his words, astounded.

"Commodore," he said slowly, hardly believing any of this was happening. "If I understand you correctly, this qualifies as an act of sexual harassment."

Stevens laughed.

"You'll never make it stick, Spock. Who in their right mind is gonna believe that a Vulcan can be harassed by a human? You're like three times stronger than me. Besides, I don't give a damn how you call it. The choice is yours. Give me what I want, and Kirk is safe and sound."

Spock stared at him, unable to utter a word.

"Oh, come on," Stevens drawled. "It's not like you're new at this or something. You're such a whore, it's written all over you. What's one more dick up your ass? I promise I'll be gentle. Unless of course you wouldn't want me to be." He laughed.

Spock didn't – couldn't answer. Stevens came closer to him, standing at point blank range.

"Don't look at me like you're all cherry or something. You were made for fucking, don't tell me you don't enjoy it. Isn't it worth your dear captain's career?"

Spock closed his eyes. It was a choice that wasn't really a choice. The idea that he'd have to submit to this man filled him with revulsion. But Stevens was right. Spock wasn't new to this. And he couldn't, he just couldn't let any harm come to Jim. Jim worked so hard against unlikely odds. Should this happen to him, should Stevens fulfill his threat, and Jim would be finished.

"What do you say?" Stevens whispered against Spock's ear.

Spock swallowed, making himself look at the man who was holding him again. The man that he hated.

"I accept," he said quietly, hearing his own voice break. "Do with me as you will."

Stevens smirked triumphantly.

"That's my boy."

No matter how diligently Spock had been preparing himself, the kiss still nearly made him nauseous. Stevens sucked on his lips like a pump, and Spock opened his mouth just to make him desist at that particular activity. Stevens obviously interpreted it as a sign of surrender and plunged into Spock's mouth, laying brutal assault, biting and ripping his way. Spock steadied himself against the room divider, his hands gripping the shelf desperately. He was sick with humiliation, almost welcoming physical pain as a means to get away from it.

Soon enough though, Stevens grew bored and decided to speed things up a little.

"A little participation wouldn't kill you," he exhaled into Spock's face. "Now turn around."

Spock did. Nothing but the rough surface of the wall before his eyes, his body pressed tightly against the bulkhead, legs spread apart, wrists held securely behind his back, he felt another wave of dizziness overcome him. He felt exactly like a whore Stevens said he was. A body to use. Nothing more. He didn't know how he'd be able to look Jim in the eye ever again.

"This is the way I like you," a silky voice rasped in his ear at the same time as a rock-hard erection pressed against his ass. Spock felt it twitching through the layers of clothing, which was mercifully still in place. "But I wonder..." the voice continued, pausing long enough for the sharp teeth to sink into the tender skin of Spock's earlobe, "...if you would look even better on your knees."

Spock closed his eyes, shuddering. It was all he could do to restrain his revolting body that was demanding to shove Stevens away hard enough to make him go through the opposite wall. Spock's control was slipping, hate building up in him, threatening to tear him apart. He didn't think he had ever loathed himself more than at this moment.

"On your knees, mister," Stevens repeated his command. "Let's start with a good old blowjob to get things going. You know how to give head, don't you?"

Spock sank to his knees without a word. He did know. He also knew how it would go. Stevens was one of those whose pleasure derived in equal measures from stimulation and their partner's discomfort. He wouldn't be satisfied until he made Spock choke on his cock, he'd pull Spock's hair and fuck his face, like it was just a hole to use.

It probably was, Spock thought numbly, reaching for the fly on the commodore's pants. What was the point really? What was the point of pretending he was something else? What was the point in winning Zee Magnee Prize in astrophysics? What was the point of proving himself as an officer? All those medals they pinned to his chest...

It still came to this.

It didn't matter what vows he gave to himself when his childhood bullies chased him. It didn't matter how hard he was working to be accepted as an equal. This was where all the roads had lead him. No matter what the circumstances were, they didn't change the simple fact – he was right where the universe designed him to be. It was an inevitability. He had simply been cut some slack before he was reminded of his place again.

Spock swallowed, steadying himself. For Jim, he was doing this for Jim, he reminded himself. Jim, who would never know such shame. Jim, who would never be put on his knees like that, for as long as Spock could help it. Jim, who must never, never know.

Vaguely, Spock heard the door sliding open, and felt his heart stop. He didn't need to look to know who it was. Jim was the only one who could enter Spock's quarters without a buzz, but it wasn't even that. Spock became so attuned to Jim's presence, he could simply feel it. It was as if the level of lighting in the room increased whenever Jim walked in. Usually, it was a welcome sensation. But now...

Silence. Spock could feel Jim's eyes on him. At this moment, he couldn't move if his life depended on it. For a fleeting, insane second, he felt an overwhelming desire to rush to Jim's side and tell him everything. It was so tempting it hurt. But he couldn't.

He couldn't.

"Jim," Stevens' voice sounded above Spock's head. "Fancy seeing you here."

Footsteps and the hiss of the door. Jim walked inside.

"Really?" Jim said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Looks like I'm interrupting something."

"Well..."

"I can see your preferences haven't changed much."

The captain was now standing right beside him. Spock dared not look up or move.

"No, indeed not," Stevens laughed. "But even if they did, I'd change them back just for him. You've got a real treasure here, Jim."

"No kidding. You know, Mr. Spock, if I knew you'd be so comfortable on your knees, I wouldn't have bothered with chess or anything."

Spock felt like he was punched in the gut. The pain was so strong that he wondered for a moment if it really happened. Slowly, he moved to rise, his eyes still steadily downcast.

"Aw, don't tell me I was a mood breaker," Jim intoned mockingly.

"No, it's okay, Jim," Stevens allowed graciously. "He's only been begging me for a week, I think he can hold on another night, can't you, baby?"

Spock didn't answer, but it obviously wasn't required. Stevens picked up his jacket and moved to the door.

"I'm tired anyway," he announced, grabbing Spock's arm and pulling him roughly toward himself. "If you tell him, he's finished," he whispered hoarsely into Spock's ear before planting a sloppy kiss on the tip. "Take a cold shower or dream of me," he said louder, with a chuckle.

After Stevens left, the silence resumed. Spock hardly even breathed. He had never had such a strong urge to be wiped out of existence as just then.

"Why all the charade?" Jim asked quietly, but Spock could feel the anger vibrating in his voice. "Why pretend you can't even look at me? You're just... God, Spock. _Why_?"

Spock let out a low sigh, only just realizing he'd been holding his breath.

"I... have no comment on the matter, Captain."

"No comment on the matter? You really wanna pull this shit on me now? 'Cause I'm like ages away from being amused, Spock. Do you know how fucking unprofessional this is?"

"I agree," Spock said quietly.

"You agree?" Jim's tone mocked. "Well, that's a relief! You agree that banging a superior officer who's conducting a fucking evaluation of the ship's performance is a bad idea?"

"It does seem... inappropriate."

"You don't say! Then why the fuck did you do it, Spock? Did you find him that irresistible? Or is it that you can't keep it in your pants like a fucking whore?"

Spock's eyes flew up to meet Jim's of their own volition. "Jim, no! I don't—"

"I think," Jim interrupted him coolly, "you'd better stick to 'captain' now. You're capable of _that_ little degree of professionalism, aren't you?"

Spock was silent, his face flushed and burning as if Jim slapped him.

"My God, I trusted you," Jim couldn't keep the betrayal out of his voice. "I trusted you with my life, with my... and you just... You're not the man I thought you were, Mr. Spock."

Spock bit at his lip hard, trying not to sway. Betrayal, hurt, disappointment – Jim's emotions washed over him, tearing him into a million pieces.

"I can't believe it," Jim almost wailed. "I can't believe I called someone like that a friend."

"Captain, please, I..."

"You what? You what, Spock? Want me to tell you? You're a cheap fraud, that's what you are. All that talk about Vulcan integrity and Vulcan dignity – and here you are spreading your legs in front of fucking everyone in hopes someone would take you up on your offer. Well, sorry I ruined your party. And I thought you were something special... God, I'm a fucking idiot."

Spock closed his eyes, unable to listen, yet having no choice.

"You disgust me," Jim nearly spat, cold disdain coloring his tone. "Guess you'd better transfer off when this is over. I don't want fuckers like you on my ship."

Having delivered the final blow and obviously unable to stay in the same room with Spock any longer, Jim marched past him to the door, without another word.

Spock hadn't known such pain existed. He sank to the floor in a shapeless heap, rocking in agony, his shame eating him up from the inside. He didn't want to live anymore, he really, really didn't want to. If he could summon enough energy to pick himself up and go to the nearest airlock, he would have. But he found he no longer had the strength to stand up.

He curled up on the floor, his whole body trembling, whispering desperately, knowing that his plea would never – _never_ – be heard.

"Jim _Jim Jim Jim Jim_..."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The crew of the Enterprise firmly believed that Engineer Scott had only two modes: hungry (when he was chewing something) and super hungry (when he wasn't). The thing was, it wasn't quite true. Contrary to what everyone thought, Scotty maintained a pretty well balanced routine of eating/socializing/eating/working/eating/working out/eating. The reasons of the wrong impression most of his shipmates got were probably stemming from the fact that Scotty did it all backwards, completely screwing the definitions of night and day, but always keeping track of the shift changes.

Which was why he found himself in the ship's gym at two hundred hours, indulging in some weightlifting, having the room all to himself. Well, technically, when he first came here, there were a couple of people from the beta shift, but they fled shortly after Scotty tried to start a conversation. Scotty shrugged melancholically and proceeded with his warm-up.

He was halfway through the first sequence of his usual routine, when he heard the sounds of pounding coming from the free exercise room. It sounded like a major kickass in progress, and Scotty just had to know who was doing it. He missed it when they told the tale of the curiosity and the cat.

To his surprise, which he instantly dismissed because – _seriously_, it was the captain beating the shit out of the punching bag, attacking it with overcrazed frenzy, as if it had Nero's face on it or something.

"Did it do something wrong, Captain?" Scotty asked warily.

Kirk halted his movements, turned around and grinned at him. It was some grin. Scotty shivered.

"Nah, I'm just out of practice," Kirk said casually. "Hey, Scotty, wanna spar?"

"Er, sure," Scotty replied, wondering if he even had the self-preservation instinct. "Ye're up late, sir."

"Yeah. You ready? And – go."

In retrospect, Scotty realized he should have said no. Not that he was ever afraid of Kirk or anything, but the man could throw a punch with the best of them. It probably didn't help that Kirk's usual sparring partner was Spock, and holding back against him was about as stupid as it got. Scotty sparred with Spock once, and it lasted exactly two minutes, 1.5 of which Spock spent trying to scrape Scotty off the mat.

Kirk was obviously in the zone, though of which kind Scotty couldn't tell. He had a hard time keeping track of Kirk's hands, wrapped in straps of dark cloth and flying out of nowhere with breathtaking speed. His grin disappeared, and his face was composed into a mask of fierce determination, which was sending unpleasant quivers down Scott's guts.

Very soon, Scotty was panting and carrying several bruises which he knew would be bitches by tomorrow. Not that it stopped Kirk or anything. He launched attack after attack, and Scotty got the distinct feeling he wasn't quite seeing his opponent but rather someone else. The whole thing alarmed Scotty no end, because as unbelievable as it sounded he realized Kirk could seriously injure him now and never notice.

"Captain, that's it – timeout!" He yelled, trying to get Kirk's attention. It earned him a vicious left cross in the face. "Captain! I said I'm—"

Kirk's fist connected with Scott's solar plexus, sending him flying backwards, collapsing in a breathless heap on the mat, the wind knocked out of him. As if it wasn't enough, Kirk lunged right at him, pinning him down with one hand and raising the other for the final blow.

"Captain!" Scotty yelled, panicking.

And suddenly, Kirk stopped. A shadow ran across his face, as he realized what he was doing.

"Oh man," Kirk breathed out, his arm dropping to his side, eyes wide with regret. "Shit, Scotty, I'm so sorry. Are you all right?"

Scott gave him a half-hearted glare, trying to rise.

"I've been better. What the hell?" He demanded irritably.

"I..." Kirk seemed to be unable to formulate an answer. "I just... You should go see Bones."

He pulled the cringing Scotty up to his feet.

"Aye, I will," Scott nodded, watching him warily. "Are _you_ all right?"

Kirk looked at him, and his lips curved slightly in a pained arc.

"I've been better. Go on, let Bones take a look at these. I'll clean it up here."

Scott complied, glancing back warily, but still happy to escape. He marched to sickbay, muttering darkly, bewildered out of his wits.

"Please don't tell me you ran into your beloved engines," McCoy grunted, looking up at him. Scott's appearance obviously didn't agree with him. "Or did you say shit to Keenser again and he kicked your ass?"

"Okay, for the record," Scotty snapped irritably. "He dinna kick my ass, he just used mass combined with speed, which is the kind of shit bloody _anyone_ can do, for yer bloody information."

"You gonna give me a goddamned physics lecture at 3 a.m.?"

"The point is – it only happened _once_, so shut up."

"Who was it now then?" McCoy smirked at him nastily. "Surely not the pretty Ensign Rodrigez? Aw, man, I told you she'd break your heart, that one."

"It wasn't her!" Scotty snarled, red-faced.

"It was _somebody_ then," McCoy said smugly.

Scotty glared at him for a moment longer. "Ye bloody bastard," he grumbled finally. "Such a sneaky, slithering son-of-a-bitch."

"A nice way to talk to your physician," McCoy said, reaching for his medical scanner. "Get on the bed."

Scotty was still glowering at him, but hopped onto the biobed obediently.

"'Twas the Captain," he admitted quietly, staring down at his hands.

"What?" McCoy nearly dropped the scanner. "_Jim_ did this to you?"

"Aye," Scotty sighed unhappily. "We were sparring, and... it got a wee bit outta hand."

McCoy listened to him describing what happened in the gym with rapt attention. When Scotty's stumbling tale was finished, McCoy shook his head as if trying to physically make the implausible piece of information fit in.

"That doesn't make any sense," he said, confused. "I mean, I'd been with Jim through the Academy, and he was on the coaching team for hand-to-hand combat, assistant instructor or something like that. He worked with all those kiddies there, heck, he even worked with me for a month or so. He knows how to spar without causing major injuries."

"Hey, I dinna have any major injuries!" Scotty protested indignantly. "My Scottish pride—"

"Screw your Scottish pride, you've been beaten by a pro." McCoy frowned. "What the fuck is wrong with Jim?"

"I dunno, but I dinna like it."

"All right," McCoy sighed, concentrating on him once more. "Keep quiet for a second, would you?"

He treated Scott's bumps and bruises efficiently, but none too gently, obviously in a hurry.

"Okay, you're good as new," McCoy announced, still very deep in thought. "Get out of here. I'm going to talk to Jim, and then—"

Scotty slid off the bed and caught McCoy's arm, halting him.

"Lad, I wouldna do it just now," he said, giving McCoy a pointed stare. "Nothing good can come from ye having yer ass handed to ye, too. Let him vent whatever 'tis that's got him on edge first. I'm pretty sure he's gone to bed anyway."

McCoy studied him for a moment thoughtfully. "Maybe you're right," he said, frowning. "Jim gets all funny when he's hot and bothered. I'll check on him tomorrow. Off you go, Scotty."

"Aye," Scotty nodded. "And Doc? Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

After Scotty left, McCoy found himself still very much disturbed. What the hell? Jim was a master of provocation, not to mention a starship captain. Good self-control was a requirement for both those things, and Jim didn't lack it. If he did, he would have been long dead, probably all the way back to one of his bar brawls in Iowa. That was a curious fact about Jim, for all his deceptive appearance, he was always in complete control of himself. Except of course when the circumstances were truly extraordinary.

McCoy sighed and shook his head. Lately he'd begun to notice a pattern in those extraordinary circumstances that did make Jim lose his cool. It didn't take a genius to figure it out really. Cherchez la femme, they used to say back on Earth when things were far less complicated. In Jim's case of late, McCoy noted grumpily, the phrase had mutated to: Cherchez le Vulcan.

For many months now, McCoy inevitably discovered that whenever there was something wrong with Jim, Spock had something to do with it, directly or indirectly. Funnily enough, the reverse was also accurate. Those two had an uncanny way of getting under one another's skins, which pissed McCoy off no end.

Not that he was against a prolonged foreplay, but _honestly_. Those two were just being _deliberately_ stupid. At least it seemed so to him, more times than not. He once lost his cool, too, at the end of one particularly heated staff meeting. Jim and Spock went blow for blow at each other, and entertaining as it was, McCoy had finally lost his patience.

'Oh, for fuck's sake, kiss and make up already!' He spilled irritably, glowering at them. There was a moment of a rather odd silence and than Jim, that greasy bastard, smirked at Spock in a most obscene manner. 'Wanna give it a try?' Spock didn't deign to answer, unless one counted the usual case of Vulcan death glare an answer. They did wrap the meeting soon after that, though, apparently getting the message of trying everyone's patience.

There was something that bugged McCoy about the development between the ship's command team. Not that he'd particularly fancied imagining these two in a relationship, but he didn't care all that much either. In a way, he still felt like he did during Jim's Kobayashi Maru hearing when he told him he liked the pointy-eared bastard whoever he was. There was some sense of warm, vindictive satisfaction in seeing Jim finally facing an obstacle he couldn't blow out of his way by either charm, smarts or sheer stubbornness.

McCoy knew his own friendship with Jim was exerting influence on the younger man, but he also knew that he had too many reservations of the wrong sort to really keep up with Jim. McCoy was cool, smart, snarky and had a dirtier mouth than an Orion slave trader, but he still was filed under 'safe people' category in Jim's head. In Jim's internal set of coordinates, McCoy belonged with people like Admiral Pike or Jim's brother Sam. People who always strived to do the right thing; who would screw the rules if they had to, but wouldn't be deriving pleasure from it; people who didn't have to prove themselves to anyone.

That was why their influence on Jim, while strong and positive, could never compete with the impact someone like Spock was making. Spock was – McCoy cringed – every bit as badass as Jim, Vulcan or no. The only reason why it wasn't immediately obvious to everyone was because Spock had, for lack of a better term, a very different style about it. But different wrappings didn't change the substance, and it was clear that Jim's internal radar had picked up on it flawlessly from day one.

And that, McCoy reflected with a touch of chagrin, was when he should have realized the truth. He'd studied psychology, after all. There was only one possible explanation for two Alpha-males to coexist in such close proximity to one another and not finish each other off a long time ago. He really should have figured it out much earlier, but they weren't surfing through the galaxy on some kind of luxury liner, and he'd been a little busy to pay closer attention to Jim's or anyone else's lovelife.

The fact that made McCoy accept the possibility and even privately welcome it was that Spock was good for Jim. There was simply no getting around it. Spock's cold unyielding logic kept Jim in check, but when it wasn't working, Spock took Jim's hand, figuratively speaking, and they made a leap of faith together. Saving their skins, the ship and the mission in the process.

Spock was a leash on Jim's slightly reckless passion, but it wasn't a restraint as much as it was an anchor. Spock was the lens focusing Jim's energy, giving Jim's inspiration the precision of a laser scalpel. Without Spock, Jim was brilliant but erratic. With Spock, he was unstoppable.

McCoy sighed. What he couldn't get was why the two of them hadn't hooked up yet. Sometimes being in the room with the two of them, McCoy could feel the tension build up so fast and thick, one could cut it with a knife. Why _the hell_ they didn't resolve it naturally was anybody's guess, though apparently, Jim's recently revealed cluelessness had something to do with it. And God only knew what Spock thought on the matter.

When Commodore Stevens beamed aboard and made his interest in Spock obvious almost instantly, McCoy held his breath. He couldn't help hoping that perhaps seeing Spock getting that much attention from someone else would finally make Jim come to his senses. McCoy didn't like the commodore; something about that man upset his internal alarm bells. But if his behavior, so clearly bordering on the line of impropriety, would give Jim the nudge he needed, McCoy thought he wouldn't be the one to look the gift horse in the mouth.

The only flaw in this plan was that, apparently, it wasn't working. Jim seemed to be completely oblivious, and by the time he showed up in McCoy's office green with jealousy, McCoy had all but given up on it ever paying off. It was gratifying beyond words to see Jim finally see the light. But what the fuck was happening now?

McCoy frowned some more, thinking about Jim's uncharacteristic outbreak of violence. If Scotty was right, and it wasn't a good idea to approach Jim just yet, that only left him with one option.

He activated the comm. "McCoy to Spock."

When no immediate answer followed, McCoy felt his eyebrows crawling into his hairline. Of course, it _was_ the middle of the night, but it was _Spock_, for Pete's sake. Spock would probably answer a hail from his coffin. And yet there was no reply to McCoy's repeated calls. Finally, the doctor gave up.

"Computer, locate Commander Spock."

There was no pause this time. "Commander Spock is in his quarters."

"What the hell," McCoy muttered. He chewed on his lip, thinking. What he was about to do was a little unethical, considering he never obtained Spock's consent. But something kept nagging him to take action, some undefined instinct pushing him to move. "Computer," he said and, taking a deep breath, plunged forward, "activate medical surveillance in Commander Spock's quarters."

Maybe Spock was just meditating? Wouldn't McCoy be so very screwed then...

It took about twenty seconds before the first set of readings appeared on his terminal. McCoy gulped. Spock was in his quarters all right. His vitals were so low, there was no telling if he was conscious or not. Swearing vigorously, all thoughts concerning anything but the immediate emergency forgotten, McCoy grabbed his medikit and rushed out of the door.

Dammit, he should have trusted his instincts. He thought there was something odd about Spock during the last few days. Whenever McCoy saw him, the Vulcan looked pale and strained, at least to his medical eye. He dismissed it, thinking that the stress of the inspection was probably taking its toll, but now he was cursing himself for not pressing the issue before.

He didn't bother to buzz. "Computer, medical override, authorization McCoy-beta-six-tango."

The door slid open, and McCoy walked in, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the semi-darkness after the run through the well-lit corridors. Spock was nowhere to be seen, which made McCoy blink a couple of times more, while his mind was occupied making sure he got the right quarters.

"What is the reason for your being here, Doctor?"

McCoy jumped at the sound of the cold even voice cutting through the shadows. He turned his head and finally spotted Spock, sitting primly on his meditation mat in his customary pose. He was looking at the intruder impassively, but McCoy could sense when he was unwanted.

Not that it stopped him.

"Jesus, Spock, do you have to be so creepy?" He muttered, walking toward him and aiming his scanner at the Vulcan.

Spock watched him with an eyebrow raised, and McCoy was pretty sure that of all the expressions this laconic gesture might convey, this time it was one of cold rebuff.

"Doctor, you have entered my quarters without permission and now you are subjecting me to an unwarranted examination. Assuming you are not a closet somnambulant, would you mind explaining yourself?"

"And would you mind explaining this?" McCoy snapped, riled up on the spot, shoving his scanner under Spock's nose. "Your readings are so low, they barely register. What in the hell have you been doing to yourself?"

Spock blinked. His face returned to neutrality almost at once, but for a tiny moment, he slipped, and McCoy noticed that.

"What the fuck's going on?" He asked menacingly.

Seemingly unimpressed, Spock continued to look up at him in perfect impassivity.

"My private life is not your concern."

"It _is_ my concern if it's affecting you this badly!" McCoy barked. "Either explain what you're doing or I'll relieve you of duty."

Spock stared at him for a moment, clearly calculating the probability of the threat being real. McCoy's expression was obviously determined enough. The Vulcan shrugged subtly.

"If you insist on prying, I am undergoing the Vulcan rite of purification."

There was only one thing McCoy could think of in response to that.

"What the hell?"

Spock let out a small sigh, as if having expected nothing else from a clearly inferior lifeform.

"I did not expect you to understand," he said, letting just the right measure of disdain slip into his voice. "Suffice it to say that, living among humans, I am subject to contamination of the chaos of your thoughts and actions, which constantly seem to strive for an even greater state of disorder. I am required therefore to purify myself once every few months in order to maintain my ability to function. You are interrupting me in my endeavor. I ask you to leave."

McCoy stared at him, appalled. "We – are – contaminating – you?" He snarled angrily. "Why you unfeeling, arrogant, ungrateful son-of-a-bitch, you—"

"Doctor," Spock interrupted him with a mild grimace. "Now that your inappropriate curiosity is satisfied, will you please leave my quarters? I need to proceed with my meditation."

"I have no wish to stay here, you pointy-eared bastard!" McCoy retorted indignantly. "Cleansing yourself of human grime really! And I thought you were all right in your perverse green-blooded way, but apparently—"

"Doctor, the door," Spock cut him off again, "is right behind you. As you humans say, good-night."

"Yeah, fuck you, too, Spock!" McCoy snapped. "Fuck you, too!"

It was only in the corridor, halfway back to sickbay that McCoy could finally see straight through the haze of his indignation. Fuck Spock, he thought furiously, the goddamned hobgoblin had crossed the line this time! Like a softhearted idiot he was, McCoy was actually _worried_ about him, wanted to help, and this is what he got in reward. Spock all but called him unclean in more senses than one. If that was what Jim got when he went to talk to Spock, then it was absolutely no wonder he was livid.

McCoy had opted to take the Gamma shift that night to get some paperwork done, but Spock had riled him up so thoroughly that he had made little to no progress by the time the night was over. And it was only when he stumbled back to his own quarters and collapsed into his bed that it hit him.

"Son-of-a-bitch," he muttered, staring at the ceiling. "That slick manipulative pointy-eared bastard. He did that on purpose. He fucking wanted me out and he had me out. Played me like his fucking harp. Son-of-a-bitch..."

He fell asleep feeling an illogical surge of affection toward Spock and giving a half-conscious vow to check on him later.

* * *

In the next two days, every member of the bridge crew had picked up on the unusual strain between the captain and the first officer. The crew was used to seeing the two of them in various phases of their complicated relationship, but this icy hostility was something completely new.

"I'm not going back to the bridge," Sulu stated determinedly, cutting into his steak with so much force that his knife made an unpleasant squeak on the plate. "Frickin' frozen hell. Do you know if they had a fight or something?" He asked Uhura, nodding not too subtly at Spock sitting alone and trying to stare down his salad.

Uhura wrinkled her nose at the sounds Sulu's cutlery was making as she darted a look in Spock's direction and frowned.

"I have no idea," she admitted, none too happy about it. "But it's not usually like that when they fight."

"Don't I know it," Sulu groaned. "Usually it's all sparks and fireworks. This is just freaking me out."

"I heard a rumor," Chekov lowered his voice conspiratorially. "The keptin is all pissed off because Meester Spock is having lots of hot steamy sex with the commodore."

"What?" Uhura snapped, her fork hitting the table at the same time with Sulu's jaw. "What the _fuck_, Pavel?"

"Who the fuck told you that?" Sulu asked.

Chekov looked inordinately pleased with himself, as it was the first time he knew something the other two didn't.

"The commodore."

Sulu and Uhura stared at him.

"Why would the commodore tell you of all people about his sex life?" Sulu asked incredulously.

"He didn't tell me, you dumbass," Chekov said, rolling his eyes. "I just overheard him talking to someone."

"To who?"

"I don't know, I didn't see them. Maybe it was the keptin himself, no vonder he's so freaked out. The things he said they did..."

"Holy fuck. That's unbelievable," Sulu said, forgetting his meal completely. "On the other hand, even if that's true, what's the big deal? The captain's never been a prude."

"I never took him for a jealous type anyway," Chekov said, just as bewildered.

"Oh, Jim can be jealous all right," Sulu shook his head. "Remember that bar on Ornus 8? That was ugly."

"Fuck, you're right."

"It's just that usually he bitches at the other guy, not Spock."

"Dammit, would you two shut up already?" Uhura snapped, glaring at them. "Don't you get it? This can't be happening."

"Why/Vhy not?" They asked in unison.

"Spock could never jump into bed with someone he's only just met," she said.

"Weeell, you two hit it off pretty quickly," Sulu said carefully.

Uhura fixed him with a stare that could turn living tissue to stone or incinerate it, depending on her preference for the day.

"Spock and I had known each other for _two years_ before we 'hit it off,'" she informed him icily.

"Maybe it's a crush," Chekov ventured.

"Vulcans don't do crushes."

"He's half-human."

"Forget it, Pav," she said impatiently. "I know him, all right? If he ever gets head over heels Vulcan-style, it won't be over someone like Stevens."

"I thought you liked him?" Sulu said.

"Not really," Uhura frowned. "I sure am not gonna make a show of it, with him evaluating our work and everything, but a girl can only listen to as many dirty jokes and still pretend she's interested. The captain said they were friends, so I kept my mouth shut, but this is starting to get ridiculous. And Spock can't be sleeping with that guy," she ruled vehemently.

"Uh-oh," Chekov muttered, staring over her shoulder. Both Uhura and Sulu turned to follow his gaze.

Captain Kirk had entered the mess hall and was now standing in a short queue to the replicators. He looked every bit as explosive and angry as he had on the bridge this morning. He keyed down his order, took the tray from the slot and turned to find a place to sit.

It was Alpha shift lunch break and most tables were full. In fact, Spock seemed to be the only one who had a spare seat. Kirk spotted it and started for it, realizing a second later just who was sitting there. At the same moment, Spock lifted his head and met Kirk's eyes.

The Vulcan seemed to have taken in the situation at once, but his reaction was weird. He dropped his gaze, stood up and exited the mess, his food remaining untouched. Kirk watched his exit with narrowed eyes. A moment later, his lips moved as if uttering a curse. He shoved his tray into the waste chute, turned on his heel and left the room through the opposite door.

"Well, that was..." Sulu started.

"Awkward," Chekov said.

"Weird's more like it," Sulu finished.

Uhura didn't say anything. She threw her napkin on the table, stood up and walked in the direction Spock had left.

"What do you think will happen?" Sulu asked his friend.

Chekov shrugged. "I don't know. But my money is on her."

* * *

It took Uhura a while before she caught up with Spock. When she did, though, in the rarely visited area of the science department, he wasn't alone. Silently, she flattened herself against the wall, looking through the tiny windows in the divider and holding her breath.

"You're a poor liar, Spock," Commodore Stevens hissed in Spock's face having the Vulcan pinned to the wall, pressing their bodies together. "Emergency in Engineering," Stevens said in a mocking tone. "Urgent experiment in the science lab." He ground his hips against Spock's with intent, making Uhura swallow a gasp. "You can't deny me forever. We had a deal."

"I am aware of that, Commodore," Spock said so quietly that Uhura blessed her sensitive hearing. "I assure you I was not avoiding you on purpose. Those emergencies did exist."

"Well, make sure they don't exist tonight also," the human breathed in his face, his fingers sliding across Spock's cheek. "My patience is all but gone. I won't tolerate any more delays."

Uhura's eyes went wide as she watched the commodore planting a wet sloppy kiss against Spock's chin before turning to go. Spock remained motionless, obviously taking a moment to compose himself. Uhura didn't want to wait another second.

"Spock," she said, and he flinched, not having seen her coming closer. "Mind if I talk to you for a moment?"

He hesitated. "As a matter of fact, Nyota, I would rather we conversed later. I am rather—"

"We do it now," she informed him in the same uncompromising tone she used to insist that her assignment was to be the Enterprise, not the Farragut.

Spock seemed to have recognized the familiar determination as well and caved, with a mild sign.

"Very well. What is it you wish to discuss?"

"What the hell's going on between you and Stevens?" She cut to the chase. She didn't care much if she was abrupt.

He looked at her calmly. "Nothing you need to be aware of."

"Spock." She touched his shoulder gently. "I'm your friend, remember? Whatever it is that's making you feel so trapped, you can tell me. I want to help."

He bowed his head. "You cannot help me." As if aware of how desolate it sounded, he raised his eyes to meet hers promptly. "You cannot help me, as I require no assistance."

"Bullshit," she snapped. "You're in trouble, I can feel it. Dammit, Spock, can't you let me in just this once? I'm your friend and I love you."

Something softened in his eyes as he looked at her. "I know," he said. "I wish you to be aware that I... return the sentiment."

"Good." She slid her hands to lock behind his neck. "Then tell me."

For a moment, there was an imperceptible waver in his stance, and it felt like he was close to relenting. But then he let out another breathless sigh and pulled her hands away gently.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I cannot. I am grateful for your offer, however. You are an incredible person. I am honored to have known you."

"What do you mean – have known me?" She frowned at him. "Spock, what the hell's going on?"

He squeezed her hands gently and stepped back. "I have duties to attend to," he said. "Lieutenant."

She watched him go, feeling more unsettled than ever.

Uhura was never the one for idle contemplation. Through the remainder of her shift, she was quiet, thinking over what little information she did have. It was disconcerting at best and quite alarming at worst. She didn't like Stevens' tone one bit. He would probably say it was just gentle teasing between lovers, but Uhura didn't have her extraordinary aural sensitivity for no reason.

She could read the voice inflections as well as all three Romulan dialects. With humans, she was almost never wrong. What she heard in that deserted corridor was a threat. The fact that Spock refused to confide in her only made her more suspicious. She was determined to get to the bottom of this. One way or the other.

She needed allies, and it didn't take her long to narrow down the list of possible accomplices to one person. As soon as her shift was over, she took the lift directly to sickbay.

"Leonard," she said, stepping inside McCoy's office and letting the door slide shut behind her. "We have a problem."

McCoy looked up at her and groaned. "Jim or Spock?" was all he asked.

Uhura raised her eyebrows and sat unceremoniously on the corner of his desk, crossing her legs and watching him blush. Leonard McCoy was too much of a gentleman for his own good. Even on shitty days like that, it amused her no end.

"Spock," she said. "But I suspect it's the same problem."

McCoy nodded thoughtfully. "I tried to corner him yesterday, but he avoids me like a plague. And Jim just yells at me like I've done something really horrible, which by now I'm damn prone to doing – to him."

"I think it has something to do with the commodore," Uhura said. "Actually, I'm pretty damn sure of it."

McCoy pursed his lips. "Rumor has it that he and Spock are fucking. To be honest with you, Jim's reaction kinda fits."

"Leonard," she said sternly. "This isn't Spock. At least, this isn't the Spock I know. When we were together, he wouldn't even hold my hand in public, never mind do anything else. He said it was inappropriate, and Leonard, he'd known me forever by then. Yet only just I saw a scene that would make our beloved captain blush had he been seen in such a position. I'm telling you, something's wrong."

McCoy sighed. "Well, to tell you the truth, it doesn't make any sense to me either. I thought if Spock had any feelings for anybody, it would be—"

"For Jim," Uhura nodded. "I agree. They've been joined at the hip lately, and I thought they'd be going at it anytime now."

"So did I," McCoy grunted. "Not that I like that pointy-eared goblin of yours or anything, but Jim's a piece of work himself. They fit well together."

"And now it's trouble in paradise, and we don't know a thing."

He stared at her thoughtfully. "Show me your cards and I'll show you mine."

She grinned. "And they say men don't do gossip."

They exchanged the pieces of the puzzle quickly. Not that it helped any.

"Look," Uhura said finally. "Spock wouldn't talk to me, and Jim wouldn't talk to you. There's only one way we can find out what's happening."

McCoy stared at her. "Stevens?" He raised his eyebrows. "Are you out of your mind? Why on earth would he talk to us?"

"First of all, it's not us, it's you," Uhura said. "And second of all, from what I've seen of him, the man loves to spin a tale. If you invited him over, you know, for a drink, and made a few comments on how you really don't like the captain... or Spock."

"_That_ shouldn't be too difficult," McCoy muttered. "But I'm not treating him to any of my precious bottles."

"Fine then," Uhura rolled her eyes. "I'll snag some of Scotty's hooch. That'll loosen his tongue for sure."

"Yeah, and give me a hangover from hell," McCoy glared at her.

"You'll live," she smiled sweetly.

"I hate you. I hate the whole fucking ship."

"That's the spirit." She slid of his desk and suddenly leaned over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. "You go get the man, I go get the booze. Let's bring this show on the road."

Flushed, McCoy scowled after her. "I am so gonna hate you in the morning."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

That never happened to him before. Sure thing, there had been lots of things in his life that riled him up to the point of batshit craze fury, but it never lasted. Jim Kirk had a flaring temper, but usually he cooled down just as rapidly as he heated up. It was a curse, but also a blessing. He wasn't in the habit of nursing his anger or holding grudges, and consequently, true malice never poisoned his soul. Kirk preferred to deal with volatile feelings on the spot, rather than let them grow into something really ugly.

That was why being in the same state of blinding fury for three days in a row made him climb the walls, almost literally. Kirk wasn't used to this, but his anger simply wouldn't go away. Every time he would spot Spock in the corridor, or hear anyone mention his name, Kirk would be swept by the urgent impulse to lash out, strike and cause as much pain as possible.

It terrified him. He was out of control, and he couldn't stand being out of control. Most of all he was afraid that he would do something so out of line that he'd be forced to relinquish command. He tried very hard to keep himself in check, but the more he tried to suppress his feelings, the more violently they burst out.

He was terrified of what he had done to Scotty, even though the man suffered no serious injuries. He was terrified because he knew he could have killed his chief engineer right there and never know it. He wasn't even _in the room_, in any sense other than physical. He knew he was snappish and irritable, and was very much aware of the tense atmosphere that settled immediately anywhere he went. His own people were shooting him dark glances and cursing him behind his back. It didn't feel right.

None of it felt right. He was so angry with Spock, he couldn't see straight. And the worst of it was that as the proverbial dust began to settle, Kirk realized that he had little right to be angry. It might not have been very professional, but technically Spock and Jake weren't in the same chain of command.

Starfleet had no regulations against romance or, God forbid, sex, only a freaking manual screaming at people to use their heads not their various sexual organs during working hours. In fact, Starfleet unofficially encouraged sexual relationships for the purposes of sex only between its officers and crewmen. It was more serious, romantic involvements that they were wary of. This job was fucking dangerous and one could end up sending the love of their life into danger at any moment of any day.

Starfleet Command didn't try to accomplish the impossible. No force in the universe could prevent a bunch of humans (or humanoids) stuck together for any lengthy period of time from forming relationships of various nature. That was by no means limited to love and sex. Friendship was just as strong a leash on one's heart, and just as prone to compromise one's judgment.

That was in essence why Starfleet encouraged sex and discouraged romance, but both were unofficial policies. All they could do was make damn sure that every person who wears the uniform understood that his or hers first responsibility was to Starfleet, not to his/hers loved ones. Anyone who couldn't handle that should choose another career path. The risk was too big to take it lightly. As far as Starfleet was concerned, having feelings for someone wasn't a crime, but making decisions based on them was.

That was why most officers, especially those serving aboard deep-space vessels, avoided commitments of any sort. Most reasonable people tried to spare themselves the pain of making the impossible choice one day. Of course, it didn't work out all that nicely, but at least most people tried. Sex was easy. It was almost regarded as just another form of workout. A way to release the tension and maintain a healthy body.

It still wasn't as simple as that though. It was frowned upon having a sexual partner of a rank that was higher or lower by more than two grades. Sexual harassment cases were rare, but the greater the difference in rank, the greater the possibility. Kirk knew that were he, theoretically, to bone his yeoman, the chances of him having to go through ten rounds of shit to prove it was consensual would be astronomical.

But even having all that in mind, Spock and Jake still had done nothing wrong. Why was this murderous fury filling Kirk's veins like an intoxicating cocktail? He went over the conversation – if one could call it that – in Spock's quarters and realized that he had thoroughly chewed the Vulcan out for no greater crime than having sex. The sheer irony of _Kirk_ freaking out at the idea was overwhelming, but he wasn't in the mood to have a laugh.

Kirk was aware that he'd said a number of things that should have gotten him decked. Vaguely, he realized that perhaps he was hoping Spock would break and lash out at him, like he did that one time on the bridge. Only this time, it wasn't a conscious decision on Kirk's part. He didn't think he'd be making any conscious decisions any time soon.

And the fact that it was Jake... Kirk groaned. They met in Iowa when Jim was ten and Jake fourteen. For Jim, it was love at first sight, as boyish hero worship went. Jake was older, stronger, smarter, _and_ he allowed Jimmy to hang around, which was cool beyond cool. They had tons of good time together, playing pranks on their schoolmates and teachers, smuggling themselves to rock concerts without buying tickets like everyone else, and plain simply hanging out. Jake educated him about girls and gave him his first taste of real non-synthesized alcohol.

There was only one dark spot on their friendship, Jim thought. He was jealous of Jake. Jake always got the things Jim wanted best, and he got them first. It was natural, given their age difference, but to Jimmy, whose spirit was ever competitive, those were hard blows to take.

Jake got the bike Jim had been ogling for months. Whenever Jim found a tome to feed his rare books mania, Jake happened to offer the dealer a better price. Jim's heart tugged unpleasantly when he saw those books later at Jake's place, treated carelessly and deteriorating quickly. He didn't know why Jake bothered to buy them if he had no interest in them, but he was so awed by Jake that he didn't dare ask.

A few years later, Jake fucked the girl Jim had a crush on. It was his own fault, Jim knew. He should have acted, not waited, but he was so smitten with her that he was simply too shy to approach her. 'A girl can't wait forever, Jimmy,' Jake told him, and of course, he was right. The same thing happened later with another girl, and then a boy.

Jim started to get the feeling that whenever he wanted something, Jake always got there first. Jim wasn't mad at him, because it was some kind of a feral, primal competition, and the only reason why Jim kept losing was because Jake was better. It was first described by Charles Darwin, Jimmy learned. The strongest survives. The most capable wins. It was natural and logical, but it frustrated Jimmy no end.

He found himself searching for activities where Jake couldn't compete with him by definition. That was how Jim ended up in the local chess club, earning himself the highest FIDE rating in his age group. Jake hated chess, claiming he could not sit still long enough to learn how the pieces moved. Also, chess was extremely 'uncool,' but Jim agreed to wear the label almost cheerfully.

For the same reason Jim went into skydiving. He enjoyed the feeling of free fall when nothing controlled his own destiny but himself, and his life was in his own hands if only for several short moments. Jake got sick in crafts without an artificial gravity platform installed, and free fall made him throw up profusely.

But no matter how much Jim excelled in those things, he knew he'd taken the easy road. If there was no competition, there was no victory, either. It wasn't fair play. And when it really mattered, Jake always managed to steal the prize.

Just like now, he'd stolen Spock from Kirk. Only it wasn't exactly stealing if Kirk made no claim on him before. Spock never belonged to him, never wanted to. And that was the hardest thing to bear. Kirk had been proving his worth to Spock for over a year, but the Vulcan showed no interest in him. And Jake just walked in five minutes ago, and Spock fell to his feet. Literally.

Logical what? Unfair much? Fuck. It didn't even matter.

Kirk was pacing his cabin restlessly, having accumulated too much nervous energy to sleep or even sit. He knew his anger was misdirected. He should be loathing himself for not being good enough, not Spock for making a logical choice. Jake outranked him, and he earned his rank the right way, and Kirk's own crew seemed to prefer him to Kirk these days. Why should Spock choose the wrong side?

It was ironic really. Before Kirk saw the two of them together, he thought he could handle Spock's rejection. But Spock went much further than simply telling him 'no.' Spock told him, in essence, 'I found better.' Kirk couldn't think of anything more humiliating than that, and his anger burned and burned, as if he had a permanent supply line straight from the devil's kitchen.

He knew what a smart thing to do was. He should go find Spock and apologize to him for prying into his private affairs, and then ask him to be more discreet, because apparently, his little sex adventure was having a devastating effect on the crew's morale. Well, maybe not the crew's so much as the captain's, but slick little details like that didn't need to be brought up. That was the smart thing to do.

Too bad Kirk couldn't look at Spock for longer than two seconds without wishing to tear him to pieces. _Et tu, Brute?_ God, he was so pathetic.

The intercom whistled softly and Kirk punched the button impatiently, wondering who might be looking for him this late.

"Kirk here."

"Captain, we have an incoming transmission for you from Admiral Pike," the comm officer on duty reported. "Should I patch it through?"

Kirk's eyes widened slightly. This was unexpected.

"Sure, Lieutenant," he said, licking his lips nervously. "Put him through. Admiral," he greeted as soon as Pike's face filled his monitor. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Pike looked at him strictly, and Kirk could tell instantly that something was very wrong.

"Kirk." Pike's voice sounded sterner than Kirk had ever heard it. "Would you mind explaining to me why I found this on my desk?" He held up a standard data padd.

Kirk blinked in confusion. "I'm sorry, sir, but what is this?"

"This," Pike snapped, "is a letter of resignation from none other than Commander Spock."

"What?" Kirk gaped at him.

"I take it from your reaction and from the lack of your signature here that you had no idea about this," Pike said icily.

"No, sir," Kirk shook his head, perplexed. "Not a clue. Spock wants to resign his commission?"

"It says so right here." Pike threw the padd on his desk. "What the hell's going on, Kirk? Do I have to remind you that Starfleet is fighting for every Vulcan who decided to remain with us instead of joining the new colony? Do I have to remind you that even if Vulcan hadn't been destroyed, Starfleet couldn't afford to lose officers of Spock's caliber?"

"No, sir, you don't have to remind me of that."

"Then how come this is happening and you know nothing about it? He's serving on _your_ vessel. He's _your_ first officer. Last time I checked regulations, you were supposed to talk to each other sometimes."

Kirk gritted his teeth, biting back the automatic response, 'We do talk.' He still remembered how well it went the last time.

_Guess you'd better transfer off when this is over. I don't want fuckers like you on my ship._

The echo of his own words brought an angry blush to his cheeks. No matter how mad he was at Spock, he didn't mean that. The heat of the moment had never gotten so personal before. It was probably something akin to what Spock felt when Kirk taunted him about his non-existent feelings for his mother...

"I will talk to him, sir," Kirk said stiffly. "This is just a misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding?" Damn Pike, he clearly couldn't get the hint.

"Yes, sir. We had a bit of a... disagreement. Mr. Spock is, apparently, overreacting."

Pike was staring at him with frightening intensity. Kirk had to remind himself that even if looks could kill, the light years between them should protect him.

"Kirk, I can tell you haven't rehearsed this, so spare me," Pike said in a low dangerous tone. "I don't know what this argument of yours was about, but I'm guessing it wasn't a lovers' spat." Kirk nearly laughed at the irony. "I have known Spock for a much longer time than you have, and he doesn't raise tempests in a teacup. I know that you're a pain in the ass, but if Spock survived at your side for this long, it obviously doesn't bother him. The two of you appear to be the best command team we've had in years. I, for one, am not ready to throw that out the window. So whatever it is you did, I want you to fix it."

Furious all over again at the blunt assessment, Kirk blurted out, without thinking, "What makes you think it was something _I_ did?"

Pike stared at him, his eyes clearly warning. But Kirk was too far gone to care.

"What, is Spock considered above reproach? Is he a fucking _saint_ now? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I haven't seen any wings or a halo when I saw him on his knees about to suck his superior officer's dick!"

He couldn't stop. He didn't know what made him say all those things to Pike, why it was suddenly impossible to keep his mouth shut. Maybe because it had been three days since he walked on Spock and Jake and he still couldn't get the image out of his mind. He needed to vent his frustration, his hurt and anger, and there wasn't a single person aboard to whom he could talk. Because Bones was giving him strange looks, and Uhura scowled at him, and Scotty – shit, he nearly beat Scotty into a coma and there was no way he was going to approach him with this. And he would certainly never go to Jake, he wouldn't be able to stand his gloating. So after three days of silence, three days of drowning in his own anger, he was suffocating, and he couldn't take it anymore.

Pike listened to his stuttering, angry, decidedly unprofessional words without interrupting, his face turning steadily darker. He still said nothing when Kirk was finally done and leaned against his desk, enervated. Pike was just staring at him, while he tried to catch his breath, and his silence was unnerving. Kirk began to wonder if the transmission had ended some time ago and his screen had simply frozen, when the admiral finally decided to speak.

"You're an idiot."

Kirk laughed in spite of himself. "Well, that was helpful. Sir."

Pike frowned at him. "I think you can drop the 'sir' now, Kirk. Our conversation stopped being professional a while ago, and by the way, thanks for asking for my permission to speak freely. That regulation book must have really gone to your head."

Strangely, Pike's lashing sarcasm sobered Kirk. He straightened up, looking grim.

"Jim, listen to me very carefully." The sound of his first name made Kirk suddenly stiffen, as if a stream of cold air descended along his spine. He had a very bad feeling about this. Pike leaned toward him on the monitor. "There is no way, I reiterate: _no way_ that Spock would be doing this voluntarily."

For a moment, Kirk felt utterly confused. "Sir?"

"It's not the first time Spock would be... coerced."

"Coerced?" Kirk stared at him. "_Spock_? He's like three times stronger than any human!" Really, that was just laughable.

"Harassment isn't always about physical strength, Jim," Pike said evenly, and something in his tone shut Kirk up effectively. "You're a starship captain; you of all people should know that. As I said, this wouldn't be the first time. I'm not going to give you any details, because it's none of your business. Suffice it to say that Spock unfortunately has a history as a victim of this particular form of abuse."

Kirk could only gape at him. His mouth hang slightly open, eyes wide with shock that hadn't quite turned into disgust or anger yet. There was no reason for Pike to lie to him about something like that, but it was just that – shocking. That anyone would do this to Spock...

"How... I mean, were they dealt with?" Kirk asked hoarsely. There was no need to clarify who 'they' were.

"That's irrelevant now," Pike snapped. "Jim, did you talk to Spock about this? Did you ask him to explain his behavior?"

Swallowing hard, Kirk nodded. "He said he had no comment on the matter."

Pike stared at him heavily. Kirk stared back, his resolve visibly tightening around his lips.

"I never took you for an easy quitter," Pike said.

"I made a mistake, sir," Kirk said grimly. "I intend to correct it."

"Good," Pike nodded curtly. "And if what I've just seen of you is any indication, I suspect you have one hell of a lot of things to apologize to Spock for. I'd start with that, if I were you. Pike out."

The screen went blank and Kirk sank into his chair heavily. His head was buzzing with what he'd learned in this very short, but very charged conversation. Things might be not so black and white as they seemed. In which case...

He groaned. All the angry words he shot at Spock in the heat of his jealous feat came back to him with a vengeance. If Pike was right, if Spock didn't want to do this...

But Jake would never! His mind argued fervently. Jake wasn't a bad guy. Sure, he was eccentric, and sometimes Kirk thought he was being deliberately mean, but that was ages ago! Jake was nothing but a teenager then. And he saved Kirk's life. He wouldn't do that if his feelings of friendship for Jim weren't genuine. Yes, Kirk noticed him making passes at Spock, but it was only teasing. And Spock seemed to be okay with it...

_After I told him he was being rude._

It suddenly occurred to Kirk how out of character it was for Spock to jump into bed with someone after knowing them for a week – _and_ in plain view of the whole ship. Spock was nothing if not private to the extreme. Spock would never... But Jake?

Unable to remain sitting any longer, Kirk sprang out of his chair and rushed for the door, not wanting to endure this excruciating not knowing a second longer. He'd find Spock and torture him for answers if he had to, but he'd get to the bottom of this. Because if there was any chance that Pike's suspicions were correct, then Kirk hadn't just insulted Spock for no reason. He'd failed him. As a captain and as a friend. And he wasn't sure, he wasn't sure at all if he could live with that.

The door opened to let him out when he heard another whistle from the intercom. There was a moment of indecision, when Kirk nearly tore himself in two, trying to get back to answer the call and rush to find Spock at the same time. The sense of duty had finally won, and he covered the distance back to his desk in four long steps.

"Kirk here."

"Come to briefing room four ASAP."

Kirk frowned. He hadn't recognized the voice.

"Who is this?" He asked impatiently, but the comm line was dead. "Dammit," Kirk swore, knowing he'd have to take a detour. "Perfect time for some fucking jokes."

He left his cabin nearly on the run, with only one thought fluttering against the gloomy cage of his mind.

_Please don't let me be too late. _


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: The chapter contains some disturbing imagery re: underage sexual and other experiences. As I found out recently some people tend to disregard **my warnings** and then yell at me for being distressed by what they read, I here warn you **again**. Still contains references to **dub/non-con**, though nothing explicit, as was **POSTED CLEARLY ON PAGE 1**, just in case the prompt wasn't telling enough. Don't like it, don't read it. But if you do read, then don't tell me you haven't been warned – because guess what? – you have been.

_Here ends my emotional outburst. I sincerely apologize to everyone who has no idea what this is all about.__ You guys are awesome and your comments make my day._

* * *

Chapter 8

Kirk practically burst into the briefing room, expecting anything by that point. And yet the sight of it being completely empty had momentarily fazed him.

"What the fuck..." he muttered, looking around, as if expecting a 'surprise' party to spring at him at any moment. He was about to dismiss the whole thing as someone's flat joke when the doors opened again, and Spock walked in.

The Vulcan stopped short at the sight of Kirk, the doors swishing closed behind him. Irritated and somewhat thrown, Kirk was about to demand an answer about what was going on, but one glance at Spock's face made him switch gears instantly. It wasn't often that he'd seen Spock so openly surprised and confused.

"Let me guess," Kirk said dryly. "You've been summoned here by a hail issued by someone you didn't recognize."

Spock folded his arms behind his back, schooling his features to impassivity. He bowed his head softly.

"Correct. Am I to assume that you are here for the same reason?"

"Yeah," Kirk said, his hand flying up to rub the back of his neck. It was a nervous habit he couldn't get rid of.

His emotions were in turmoil. Only just he had been overcome by the urgent need to confirm Spock was all right, adrenaline humming menacingly in his veins. Yet now, having suddenly come face to face with Spock, he couldn't help but feel a little ridiculous. And maybe a tiny bit angry. And confused as hell.

And it probably wasn't the bravest thing he had ever done, but for a split second the weight of the moment seemed to be too much. He needed to talk to Spock, and yet he felt he couldn't right now. He couldn't even look at him, though for what reason he had no idea. He needed a break to try and regain his bearings. Almost automatically, he stepped toward the door.

It wouldn't open.

"What the hell?" Kirk mumbled irritably. He reached for the manual control panel and tapped at it impatiently. The door remained as closed as ever.

"We appear to be victims of a practical joke," Spock remarked calmly behind him.

Kirk groaned. "When I find this 'joker,' I swear to God, Spock, I'm gonna kick his ass so hard he wouldn't—"

"If you will allow me to take a look, sir?" Spock interrupted him coolly.

"Knock yourself out," Kirk bristled, stepping away from the control panel.

He was suddenly caught in the familiarity of the moment. Him saying obscenities. Spock interrupting him before he could finish the sentence. Spock providing cool to his heat, applying a practical solution while Kirk vented his emotions.

Too. Damn. Familiar.

Kirk glanced at Spock surreptitiously. How would he ever be able to live without this? This was the first close to normal interaction the two of them had had in three days. Kirk could read the tension in the rigid line of Spock's shoulders, and he couldn't stop his eyes from roaming over Spock's entire form, searching. Was he hurt in any way? Was he...

Suddenly, the screen on the opposite wall was activated, and Kirk muttered another curse. What the hell was going on? But as soon as the image registered, he tuned out everything else instantly.

It was a transmission from one of the security cams and it was from sickbay. Kirk recognized McCoy's office at once. Bones was sitting at his desk, sharing a bottle of Scotty's hooch with... Commodore Stevens!

Kirk's jaw dropped. Both men appeared to be pretty drunk already, which wasn't surprising, considering that the bottle was two thirds empty.

"...just a spoiled brat," McCoy was saying. "You know? Everyone at the Academy went on how he was the son of George Kirk and everything, but honestly... Kirk's always been just a cocky bastard that Pike had dug up in a bar of all places."

Kirk stared. He couldn't believe he was hearing that from Bones.

"In a bar?" Jake stared at McCoy, too. "Well, that's gross. But say, Doc, I thought you two were thick as thieves."

"Me and Jim?" McCoy snorted, his voice slurring. "He's just all over the place, man, you can't miss him. Sometimes I really wish one of his moronic stunts would put an end to it, honestly. Ouch. Not a nice thing to say."

"Nah, you're fine, Doc," Jake clasped his shoulder, nearly missing. "He's an annoying little fucker, that one."

"No shit. I had to take my biochemistry test twice because of him."

"You don't say. How'd he manage that?"

"Hacked my computer and made all the answers go to the wrong questions," McCoy spat.

"I never did that!" Kirk yelled, outraged. "You took that test two times because you had the hots for Vickie Stainberger and couldn't concentrate!"

"...er," Jake was saying. "Jim's always been a nasty little bugger. Always cheated his way up."

"You're from Iowa, too, right?" McCoy refilled their glasses. "You meet him there?"

"Yeah," Jake let out a long sigh and took another shot with a wince. "Damn, this stuff is vile."

"Scotty's favorite."

"Anyway. I grew up in the neighborhood. Fuck. I'm older than him, right? So when he transferred to our school he was just another kid. And then suddenly he's the best student. Not only in his year – in the whole fucking school. D'you know how humiliating it is – to be outdone by some freaking kid?" Jake shook his head and signaled for McCoy to pour him another shot. "That was the only thing I did right, you know? Getting good grades. I wasn't Mr. Popular exactly. Chicks didn't fall for me on sight. Not into sports, or anything. I was so fucking average, just a face in the crowd. Tried to do things to stand out, you know. This one was the only one that worked."

"Getting good grades?"

"Yeah. Others were either too slow or too lazy, so I did this, get it? Tried to tell them I was different the only way I could. I worked fucking hard to outdo them all, studied and read up and whatever. And I was there, too, got the fucking ribbon and everything. Then our boy genius walked in and all my work went to hell."

He downed his glass without even cringing this time. Apparently, he had gotten too drunk to react to the brutal taste of Scotty's favorite. Jake looked up at McCoy.

"I went to meet him, you know," he said. "I was thinking maybe if it's some kind of nerd it's okay. 'Cause really, who wants to be one. If he was some motherfucking bookworm, I could live with that – 'cause maybe he worked harder." He looked up at McCoy almost sadly. "But he didn't. He was the most lazy good-for-nothing bastard I'd ever met. Shit."

McCoy poured him another shot, and while Jake was trying to cough through it, Kirk tried to remember how to breathe. He had no idea Jake hated him so.

"There'd be a test, you know," Jake said, staring at his empty glass. "Everyone would sit and read up and try to get ready and everything. And he'd just _scroll_ through the fucking textbook, which he hadn't touched for a year, and then say some freaking shit like, 'I'm bored, let's have a party.' And you know what happened then? He'd go and have his fucking fun all night and then turn up in the morning and get his fucking A like it's been waiting for him. How's this fair?"

McCoy appeared to be at a loss for comment, but thankfully Jake didn't seem to need one at this point.

"He was fast, too. We started to hang out, and that was just sick, 'cause he didn't even know, well, anything. I kinda liked it. He'd say he didn't know something, and I'd just feel so happy. But then he'd beg me to teach him, and in a day he was better at whatever it was than I ever had been. Never told him of course. Not that he needed it, fucking cocky bastard."

"He said you saved his life," McCoy said ostensibly off-hand, when Jake appeared to have gone into deep introspection.

"Yeah," Jake smirked wryly and shook his head. "He wasn't always as smart as he thought."

"What happened?"

"There was that girl Jimmy'd been all starry-eyed and drooling over. Becky Sanders. She got caught up in the gym's locker room, going all dirty with a classmate. There was evidence, don't even know what, but there was something. They were gonna show it to her parents, and she was scared sick. Well, her dad sure was a dick, so maybe I'd be, too. Jimmy found out and decided to go get it."

McCoy pressed his palm against his face, but didn't say anything.

"I went with him," Jake continued. "Don't really know why. We went at night. He climbed over the fence and got inside. I waited. That thing was in the principal's office, and he kept all sorts of stuff there, so there was an alarm and everything. Jim said he could get past it." Jake smirked. "He didn't know it had just been upgraded. I did. I didn't tell him."

Kirk gasped, gripping the back of the chair in front of him reflexively.

"I figured it'd be fair play," Jake said. "He was the fucking genius, he could open his fucking eyes and take a fucking look before plunging in. But of course, he didn't. The thing went off like hell, and Jimmy ran out, climbed the fence, and that's when the forcefields came up. The fucking system was straight from Civil Defense, it was damn effective. He was trapped up there."

"Please tell me he didn't jump," McCoy said, and his face at that moment was showing nothing but concern for Jim. Jake didn't pick up on it though.

"If he'd just stayed put," he said, shaking his head. "Sure, he'd have gotten caught, but fuck, he'd deserve it. I just wanted to see that for once his fucking cheating wouldn't work. But he panicked or something, I don't know. He jumped."

Kirk, whose eyes were glazed by that point with all the emotions that were choking him, suddenly felt a firm, steady hand clasping his shoulder. He didn't look back, didn't acknowledge it in any way, but he leant back just a little, sinking into the comfort of the simple touch.

"I never wanted any physical harm to happen to him, you know," Jake said quietly, oblivious to McCoy's expression. "Well, bumps and bruises were fine, but I never wished him... dead or... anything. I was just standing there, and he was getting shock after shock from the fucking forcefield. He was kinda jumping, only it was from the charges." He shivered. "I freaked out. He was being fried in front of me, and I just couldn't think. At all. And then I just ran to the power generator and knocked it off. I wasn't supposed to know where it was or how to do it, but my dad installed the whole fucking thing, so of course I knew. Jim was in deep shit when the police arrived. He got me in trouble, too. I took it like I was fine, but I so made him pay for it later." Jake smirked. "Turned out Jimmy didn't know how to give head back then. He was a quick study."

There was a beat of silence following the confession. McCoy was staring at Jake fixedly, fists clutched, but unmoving. Jake seemed to be completely engrossed in his memories. Kirk didn't know if he could even breathe. He didn't know if he had ever felt so angry or hurt before.

"I enrolled into the Academy the next fall," Jake said. "Jimmy went kinda wild around that time. Always looking for more trouble. I left and thought I'd never see him again. I made a career in Starfleet. I almost got a ship of my own – and here Jim fucking Kirk strides in and fucks everything up again. I was considered for the Enterprise, did you know that?" Jake asked McCoy. "Wanted it so fucking badly. But of course they had to give it to him because he's a fucking genius and saved Earth, who cares if he's an asshole. So I got promotion as a sweetener instead and a fucking desk job."

"Tough luck," McCoy said. It was the first comment he made in a while, and his voice was wound up and tight. But the commodore was too far gone to notice.

"When they sent me here," Jake was saying, his eyes gleaming manically, "I thought I'd find a way to screw things up for him. No way someone as moronic as our dear Jimmy could run a ship smoothly. And you know what I found after a whole fucking week?"

"What did you find?" McCoy asked grimly.

Jake looked at him. "Not a fucking thing. This ship is fucking exemplary. Everyone's trying so hard to be perfect, it's disgusting. Every shit is backed up, even that damn mess in Engineering. Courtesy of your pointy-eared first, no doubt."

"I thought you liked Spock?"

Jake let out a mean laugh. "Oh, I like him fine. Liked him the moment I saw him, too. The man's made of sex appeal, you'd have to be blind not to see it. I thought I might maybe hit on him, see how it goes. Who knows with these Vulcans and everything. But then I saw it."

"Saw what?"

"My chance. That tour of the ship was a gift from heaven. The way Jim looked at him, the way he itched to touch. Mostly, the looks though. I've seen him looking like that at that bitch Becky, too. Only with Spock, it was like tenfold more. I needed to check so I asked the crew. They told me Jim wasn't fucking him. And I knew then, I knew that Jim was in for good, because you have to be a fucking saint not to touch Spock when he's letting you, and boy is he letting Jim. And I decided then. He got my ship, he lives my life, but I'm gonna take the love of his life if it's the last thing I do."

"So you really..." McCoy coughed. "You..." he stumbled over the word, but got it out finally, "fucked him yet?"

"Nah, not yet," Jake shook his head. "He's been avoiding me, bringing up some excuses. But I have him tight. Spock'll let me do whatever I want with him."

"Why?" McCoy obviously couldn't come up with any kind of disguise, so he asked outright.

Jake smirked. "He's pathetic. Gorgeous, but pathetic. He'd do anything for his captain, like he fucking deserves it or something. The moment I figured that one was the moment I had him. Told him Kirk was in trouble with the inspection and that I'm in a position to get him tanked. Said that I'd have Kirk out of the job if Spock didn't submit to me. And you know what? It worked like a charm."

There was a look of murderous fury on McCoy's face, but Kirk could hardly register it. Instead, he was suddenly all too entirely back in the briefing room, realizing that Spock's hand had slipped from his shoulder quite a while ago, and that he hadn't heard a thing from the Vulcan the entire time. Whirling on the spot, he saw Spock standing with his back pressed against the wall, eyes wide and breathing uneven. He was so pale it seemed completely unnatural.

The screen went blank behind Kirk's back, but Kirk couldn't care less if he tried.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He snapped, and Spock winced at the sound of his voice. "_Why the hell didn't you tell me, Spock?_" It was an honest yell now. "How could you think I would simply accept something like this? Did you think I could live with this?!"

Spock swallowed, trying to make his lips form the words. The effort was visible.

"You... were not supposed to... find out."

Kirk growled, jumping toward him, hands flying up, reaching for Spock's neck and stopping just short of it.

"I need to know one thing right now," he managed through gritted teeth somehow. "One thing. Did he... do anything to you? Did he touch you, apart from what I saw?"

"Captain, I—"

"_One thing_, Spock."

Spock was looking at him, emotions boiling openly in his eyes, but Kirk couldn't spare a thought for the fascinating view right now. One thing he demanded of Spock was exactly the limit of what he could intake at the moment.

Spock seemed to understand it, too, because he answered cautiously, obviously aiming to reassure and knowing beforehand that it wouldn't work.

"He had not succeeded," he said quietly.

Kirk closed his eyes briefly. "If you're lying to protect me again, so help me, I'll—"

"I am not lying."

Kirk stared at Spock a second longer, trying to assess his sincerity. Then, he spun toward the door, having every intention of forcing it open, but there was no need. Whoever trapped them here, had obviously decided it was time to set them loose. Kirk sprang out of the room in the blink of an eye.

"Captain, wait!" Spock called after him, following quickly. "Where are you going? You cannot—"

"Get lost, Spock!" Kirk sent over his shoulder, neither looking back nor slowing down. "I'm gonna fucking murder him, and right after that, I'm gonna fucking murder you!"

"Captain!"

Kirk spotted two crewmembers from security and rushed toward them, knowing Spock was much faster than him.

"Hold Mr. Spock here, that's an order!" He snapped at the shocked men and sped up to a run.

He could hear the sound of voices behind his back. Spock obviously was trying to get rid of the security guards and would probably succeed, but he'd still lose time over it. Kirk didn't care as long as it suited him. He was a man on the mission and he intended to carry it out.

To a most logical end.

Kirk stormed into sickbay, nearly knocking people out of his way. He didn't know if Stevens was still there. He didn't know if what he saw was a recording or a live transmission, and he didn't stop for one moment to analyze the possibilities. He was too angry, too out of control to even try. But the gods of chance were obviously on his side that day, because as he rushed through the double doors, he came almost nose to nose to a still very much inebriated Stevens.

"You son of a bitch!" Kirk shot at him, instantly transforming his speed into an attacking force and letting his fist collide with the other man's jaw like he meant it. He did. "You son of a bitch!"

And that was all he could manage to get past his lips. The commodore stumbled backward, tripping over something and mumbling something incoherent. Kirk didn't care. He was upon Stevens in moments, landing blow after blow. Vaguely, he heard a woman scream and some raised voices, but not even a red alert could have shaken him out of his frenzy right now.

He sprang up, grabbed a handful of Stevens' shirt, pulled him upright and shoved him face first into the wall. There was a loud cracking sound and a wail, a sure indication of a broken jaw. Kirk picked him up again, and smashed his nose with a vicious blow. Stevens keeled over, blood rushing down his face and neck.

For some reason the sight of it only fueled Kirk's rage. He sprang forward, cutting himself loose, all his safeguards evaporating on the spot. All he could think of was causing as much pain as possible and then some, and he didn't care much if he'd end up beating Jake to death. His vision was blurred red, and he was completely oblivious to his surroundings.

"Captain, stop!" A voice cut right through his frenzy.

Obviously, no one could hold Spock back for long if he didn't wish to be held. Kirk gritted his teeth, continuing his assault.

"Captain, you'll kill him!"

"Good," Kirk sneered, hearing another bone-cracking sound.

"Dammit, Jim, he's not worth it!" Bones had, apparently, surfaced from the depths of his own intoxication. "He's not worth your career! Don't let him win this way!"

Kirk growled, losing what little presence of mind he had left and continuing to destroy his unconscious opponent. His arms were flying around wildly, making it humanly impossible for anyone to come closer to him. Humans, though, weren't the only ones present.

A shout of, "Dammit, Spock, do something!" was the only warning he got. He wasn't quick enough to avoid the hand that reached for his shoulder at a nearly impossible angle. A brisk shot of pain and then darkness claimed him.

He woke up in his quarters some inestimable amount of time later. His shoulder hurt. His knuckles were aching. His whole body was tense, as if he'd spent the day mining borate.

He stood up and walked to his desk to check the ship's status. Before he could activate his terminal, though, he noticed the padd sitting on his desk, waiting for him. Kirk picked it up almost absently, and scanned it quickly. It was a report from sickbay on the health status of one Commodore Jake Stevens.

Five broken bones, a severe concussion, multiple tearing and bruising. Kirk smirked darkly, unrepentant, and then smirked more when he noticed that the report wasn't signed by Bones. Someone else had to treat the commodore's injuries. McCoy couldn't make himself do it.

Kirk threw the padd on the desk and turned on his terminal. He was in the middle of going through his check-list, when the door to his cabin opened, and McCoy walked in, wariness wrapped around him tightly.

"Oh, good, you're awake," he mumbled, not exactly meeting Kirk's eyes. "Can I... can I check you over?"

Kirk turned toward him, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against his desk.

"Sure," he said, and McCoy breathed out loudly. "If you tell me what I missed."

"Not much," McCoy said, coming over and aiming his scanner at Kirk. "Spock took charge. He put Stevens in the brig after we patched him up some. We're now headed back toward the Starbase to sort this out. Spock's with Uhura now. I think they're trying to figure out a way to keep you out of jail."

Kirk snorted. "Good luck."

"It's not funny, Jim." McCoy snapped his scanner closed and looked into Kirk's eyes. "You beat that man to a pulp. If Spock didn't stop you, you'd be facing murder charges now."

Kirk's eyes reflected nothing but stubborn determination. "Tell me there wasn't some part of you that wished for me to finish the job."

McCoy sighed and looked away. "That's beside the point. This piece of shit isn't worth your career or your life."

"Bones."

"Oh, fuck, fine," McCoy blurted out. "Yeah, okay, I wanted him to suffer. You beat him raw and I wanted more."

Kirk raised his eyebrows, but his expression wasn't one of censure. "Hippocrates must be whirling in his grave," he said, with a small smirk.

McCoy shrugged. "What do you want from me? I'm only human. What that bastard did to you and Spock is... I don't even have a word for it. He deserved what he got."

Kirk clapped him on the shoulder, his lips pursed tight. "And more."

They contemplated it in silence for several moments, until McCoy looked at Kirk almost apologetically.

"I need you to come to sickbay for a psych exam."

Kirk rolled his eyes and dropped his head back in exasperation. "Bones..."

"We need to cover your back, Jim. You don't know what it looked like. You were so completely out of it, scared my staff half to death. Scared me half to death, too."

"You said he deserved it."

"And I stand by it. But your kindly friendly JAG person might not see it that way. We have the record, of course."

"Yeah, you wanna try and explain that? Who set this up?"

"Uhura," McCoy said.

Kirk bit his lip. "Figures."

"Yeah. We were worried about you, Jim. Both of you. We had to do something."

"Well," Kirk sighed. "You did plenty. Do you happen to know... if Spock is still talking to me?"

McCoy stared at him. "Jim, please tell me you're not recruiting me to pass notes."

"It's not that," Kirk shook his head, glancing at his feet ruefully. "I mean, I know I have to talk to him and everything. It's just... I need to know if I still have a chance."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Jim. The guy just sold himself out for you. I don't know about you, but personally I think it's pretty telling."

Kirk closed his eyes. "I know. I just... I'm..."

"Scared?" McCoy suggested with a small smile. "You should be. It's a human thing to feel."

"Somehow hearing you say that doesn't help me all that much."

"Yeah, well, I'm not your mother. Quit whining and go find him. God only knows what he thinks about all this mess now that it's all in the open."

"Yeah." Kirk took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Yeah. Thanks, Bones."

"And Jim," McCoy said, clasping his arm. "If you think that you're bad at all that relationship talk and everything, bear in mind that Spock is worse. We did all we could for you, but from here on, you're on your own. If you don't fix this, nobody will."

Kirk held his eyes for a moment longer, then simply nodded. He needed a plan.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"You have to tell him."

Spock looked over at Uhura, one eyebrow raised. She sighed and shook her head, not buying it.

"Spock, if you do that without telling him, he'll kill you. I know I would."

Spock pursed his lips. "He will think I am trying to protect him at the cost of myself."

"And you're not?"

He glanced at her sharply. "I _am_ trying to protect him. But I am doing this for myself as well. What happened has not been easy, and the fact that... other people know... I am not willing to increase their number."

She held his gaze for a long moment, then stood up fluidly and moved around his desk to stand behind him.

"May I?" She asked softly, leaning closer to him.

Spock sighed. "Please."

She placed her hands on his shoulders, her touch firm through the fabric of his uniform, and started to knead the taut muscles. She had surprisingly strong hands for a female, Spock mused. The familiar pattern started to have an effect on him soon enough, tension beginning to leave him.

"We are your friends, Spock," Uhura said gently, continuing her ministrations. "I know you're not used to sharing things you consider private. But that's what happens when you're getting close to someone. We share. Not to hurt or to laugh. To help each other. Like you helped me sort this thing out with my Granny."

"That is hardly the same," Spock breathed out slowly, his eyes sliding close as he relaxed into her touch.

"It is for me," she said calmly. "Not everything has to be dirty to _be_ dirty, you know. I never told anyone about that until you. I was ashamed and scared. What if someone knew? What would they think of me?"

"Public opinion never weighed heavily with you."

"No," she said. "But my own conscience did." She slid her hands down his biceps, hunting down the tension.

"You made a logical choice," he said, his head dropping back to rest against her abdomen.

She smiled fleetingly at his easy trust in her. The feeling of pride that he would allow himself to drop his guard with her had never gotten old for her. She stopped her massage for a moment, leant forward and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. Spock didn't even open his eyes.

"I know," she said, pushing him slightly forward so that she could have better access to his back. "But that doesn't make it right, Spock. I know it doesn't make sense to you, but I feel guilty. Even if it was the right thing to do."

"That is not—"

"My point is," she cut him off firmly, "I'm not comfortable sharing this, but I'm okay that you know. Because I trust you, and I know that you care for me. I know that you would help me and wouldn't judge me. That's what friends are for, Spock."

"I trust you," he said slowly. "But—"

"You don't trust the captain? Or Doctor McCoy?"

Spock was silent for a while, examining his feelings. "I trust the captain implicitly," he said at last. "As for the doctor..." He sighed. "He has not given me any reason to question his integrity. But I have a... difficult time calling him a friend."

Uhura smiled at that. "That's because friendship doesn't always come in nicely wrapped packages," she said. "Sometimes it's rough and grumpy, and all the same true. Actions speak louder than words, Spock."

"Indeed."

"If it makes you feel more comfortable, remember that he's a doctor. He may take shots at you till he's out of breath, but he'll never violate your privacy. Even if he hated you, which he doesn't."

"Nyota." Spock straightened up and turned around in his chair to face her. "I need to know something."

He appeared strangely hesitant, almost bashful, and she nodded reassuringly. "What is it?"

"You are my friend," he said slowly, as if searching for words as he went. Which for Spock was probably a first. "You will not lie to me, if I ask you..." His struggle was becoming more and more pronounced. "I need to know... I need to know where I stand. Starfleet is easy to understand. I know I am performing satisfactory to their standards when they promote or commend me. But with people... It is difficult to know. I have poor knowledge of human psychology. I need to know why... people care about me. Is it because they are... kind and would direct their feelings at any object or person? Or is it because I warrant it somehow?" He looked up at her, confused and unhappy that he couldn't get his answers himself. "Please give me an honest response. You do not have to 'spare my feelings.' I simply wish to know the truth."

Uhura's gaze was sympathetic but serious.

"I would never lie to you, Spock," she said quietly. "And I am honored that you would turn to me with a question like that and trust my judgment."

"I do trust your judgment."

"In that case... Why do you like me?"

Spock blinked. "I..."

"Please don't bring up you being a Vulcan," she shook her head sternly. "We both know you have feelings. Call it what you will, but we both know you like me. Why?"

"You are extremely intelligent," Spock said at once. "I respect you for your expertise and talent. I admire your confidence that shows in everything you do. You are compassionate and sincere. You do not tolerate pretense. You are honest. You are a good friend."

She laughed softly. "I was hoping you'd say it's because I'm hot in there, somewhere, but I guess I'll have to deal with what is."

Her smile kindled a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"I was being polite," he said. "If you recall, I was strongly attracted to you, thus proving..."

"Yes," she patted his shoulder. "I know. My point is, Spock, you like me because of _me_. Because of what _I _am. Because I possess some qualities that appeal to you. Because you and I both have something within us that allows us to connect on an emotional level. This is why you can work with anyone, but be friends only with a few. Irrational enough for you yet?" She grinned.

Spock shook his head softly. "Unexpectedly, I believe this is quite logical."

Uhura chuckled. "There's hope for me yet." Her face grew serious again, as she looked into his eyes deeply. "It goes the same way with me and you," she said. "With all the people who like you or care for you. You have something in you that kindles their emotions, be they good or bad. People don't feel emotions because they are nice people. They do when they see something or someone that elicits those emotions from them. There's a saying, you know. You can lead a horse to the water, but you cannot make him drink."

Spock contemplated her words, then nodded thoughtfully. "I believe I understand. But this is hard to accept."

"What is?"

"That I possess something in me that elicits such strong emotional responses."

Uhura laughed. "Get used to it. I don't know about all those people who were there when you grew up and everything, and I don't understand them one bit, but it doesn't matter anymore. You're with us now. This is the life you built for yourself. You earned what you get from us, Spock. Every bit of our respect, and care, and love. Don't ever doubt that."

Her eyes were gleaming with warmth, and Spock couldn't help but respond to it. He gave her a very small, but sincere smile.

"I was afraid to lose my doubts," he confessed ruefully. "The last years, especially the last year, have been so... fulfilling, so gratifying that I was... apprehensive of it turning out to be an illusion of some kind."

"You were afraid to believe."

He nodded. "Despite the proof I had, despite my own assessment of my actions and accomplishments, I was still wary of believing in it."

"Illogical," she teased softly.

"Quite," he agreed. "I believe I was emotionally compromised."

She laughed and slid down to hug him. He stood up, pulling her up with him and holding her tightly for a moment.

"Thank you, Nyota," he said, pulling away slightly, holding her eyes.

She stood up on her toes and brushed her lips against his softly. "I love you, Spock," she said with feeling. "Now go find our intrepid captain and see how well he takes that crazy plan of yours. Mind you, if he bites your head off, remember that I did warn you."

"I will," he said, stepping back.

"And Spock? Remember also that Jim is an emotional and irrational human. Don't let him screw this up. I hope you don't need me to tell you what it means if a man is willing to kill for you. Literally."

Spock bit his lip. "I know," he said. "I know."

* * *

Meditation helped bringing his thoughts into focus. With all the facts lying bare in front of him, Spock could no longer deny the truth. Not if he was still an adept of logic. Spock was never the one to prolong his reflections once his conclusions were made. He made his way through the corridors of the Enterprise steadily, stubbornly refusing to admit to being nervous.

Vulcans did not experience nervousness after all.

"Yes!" A familiar voice shouted from behind the door. Spock took it as an invitation to step in and entered the room.

"Spock." Kirk looked up at him from where he sat on the floor in front of the viewport. "I... I wasn't expecting you."

Spock lifted an eyebrow, coming closer. The captain blushed.

"Well, obviously, I knew we'd talk... at some point," he said ruefully. "I just thought I'd have to turn the ship inside out to find you first."

Spock ignored Kirk's cover-up grin, in favor of getting down to the deck next to him. He waited patiently, his eyes trained on the human, but not with a degree of intensity that would be unnerving. Kirk coughed, looking away briefly, before returning his gaze to the Vulcan. Spock decided that James Kirk sans his cocky over-confident veneer was the most fascinating sight he'd ever seen.

It struck him then, all of a sudden. His fears, his uncertainties, his apprehension that what the commodore had put them through had tainted whatever relationship he and Jim might have developed otherwise – all faded, faced with this side of Jim Kirk Spock hadn't seen before. Insecure, almost afraid, something Spock never imagined applicable to this human. But he could see it now in Jim's eyes, shining a little bit too bright, could sense it in Jim's posture, rigid to tremors of nervous energy coursing through Jim's body.

It was an epiphany. Spock sat there, shaken by the force of the sudden revelation. Jim needed him every bit as much as Spock needed Jim. The realization brought elation. For a brief moment, Spock felt his head actually spin, as if he were intoxicated. He waited for Jim to speak, but he already knew who would be calling shots here now.

This was nothing new in their dynamic. For over a year now, whenever one of the stumbled, the other offered support. And right now, unexpected and unlikely as it might have seemed, Jim needed him a little bit more. Spock would have been unable to believe in it at all were he human. But the Vulcan in him could not dismiss the evidence at hand.

At this one particular moment, Jim's guilt made him more vulnerable than Spock was. It was highly unusual and did little to help Spock retain his calm. But he couldn't deny that the sudden surge of confidence that rushed through him was a welcome and highly pleasant sensation.

"I'm sorry," Kirk said finally. "For everything I told you back then. Those were horrible words, and I didn't mean them."

Spock's gaze didn't waver. "Then why did you say them, Jim?" He asked, not missing how Kirk's face brightened up momentarily at the use of his first name.

"I was jealous," Kirk confessed quietly. "God, Spock, I was so jealous, I couldn't see straight. I didn't know what I was saying. I could have said... could have done anything. And it scares the shit out of me now, because it never happened to me before."

"Jim, your words... hurt more than what the commodore did."

Kirk flinched, his face turning pale. "I know," he whispered helplessly. "I know, Spock. I'm so, so sorry. I just couldn't... Seeing you and him like that... it nearly killed me."

Spock nodded softly. "It is true then."

"What is?"

"You..." he couldn't finish.

"I'm in love with you?" Kirk suggested, sounding sad for some reason. "Yes, Spock. That's true."

It was Spock's turn to look away for a moment. He cleared his throat. "It is... not easy for me to accept."

He heard Kirk sigh next to him.

"I know," Jim said. "And I'm sorry you had to find out like this. I'm sorry you had to find out at all."

"Why?" Spock glanced up at him, surprised.

"It's not what you want," Kirk shrugged. "It makes you uncomfortable. But listen, Spock, it doesn't have to be like this," he said earnestly. "I've got it under control. It won't bother you at all, I promise."

Spock looked at him for a very long moment, taking in the blatant determination in Kirk's eyes. Very softly, very carefully, Spock said, "It does not please me to contradict you, Captain, but I do not believe that you have it under control."

Kirk blinked, startled, and blushed furiously, biting his lip hard and hanging his head. "No, Mr. Spock," he said hoarsely. "I don't think I do."

Silence cradled them again, until Spock called gently, "Jim." As if unable to resist the pull, Kirk looked up at him, his expression one of ultimate defeat. Spock drew a little closer. "Neither do I."

The surprised huff of Kirk's 'Oh' was caught between their lips as they met. The contact was so chaste and tender it was barely tangible, and yet tangible enough. They pulled away and looked at each other.

"Spock..." Kirk breathed out in disbelief and wonder. "You...?"

Actions spoke louder than words, Spock reasoned, leaning closer and kissing Jim again, this time with more urgency, angling his head for a better fit, and sliding his tongue along the fullness of Jim's lips. Kirk moaned with helpless need, his eyes sliding shut, head falling back, as he sank into the plexiglass of the viewport, tugging Spock with him. Spock followed gladly, not worried at all about losing his balance, pressing Jim down with his body, one hand lost in Jim's hair, the other coming to rest an inch above his waist.

Kirk moaned again, opening his mouth, and Spock all but drowned in it, his own need for this human sending his senses into overload. Kirk couldn't hold still for long. Kissing and licking, he sat up and flipped them over so that Spock was now lying beneath him on the deck, pliant and needy. Kirk bit Spock's lower lip, eliciting an unidentifiable, but incredibly arousing sound from the Vulcan, who pulled him down even closer.

"Wait... Spock... Hold on a second," Kirk panted, steadying himself against the deck with one hand and looking down at Spock with eyes burning with desire. "What... what is this? What is happening?"

"I would assume..." Spock's voice wasn't exactly even, either, "that what is happening now... is what usually happens when a person you love reciprocates your feelings."

Kirk's eyes glinted at the admission, turning impossibly bright, and he laughed. "Smartass. I mean, you're sure about this? Because if you're doing this because you think you owe me something... or it is your duty... or anything, then I'll just..."

"No," Spock cut him off resolutely.

"That's it?" Kirk chuckled nervously. "Just no?"

Spock pushed him slightly away and sat up, never letting go of Kirk completely.

"You said you were in love with me and that I would not want it," Spock said quietly. "You were wrong. You are all I ever wanted. The one true feeling that happened to me, the one that I taught myself to resist."

"Why?"

"I thought myself unworthy of you."

"Jesus, Spock," Kirk breathed out in shock. "You? Of all people? You?"

"What surprises you so, Jim?"

"Spock, you're like the most worthy person I've ever met. You're smart, strong, confident. I envy your self-control. And your logic, God, your logic just throws me sometimes. When you say things like 'Your course of action is irrational, I advise you to reconsider if it is within your mental capacity' to a guy who holds a phaser to your head, I get a goddamn hard-on in the middle of a crisis."

Spock lifted an eyebrow, leaning in to nuzzle at Kirk's neck. "Must be inconvenient," he purred into Kirk's ear.

"Jesus," Kirk gasped. "Oh, Spock... you have no idea." Spock's tongue slid along the shell of Kirk's ear, and Kirk whimpered. "I admire your... integrity. Oh God... Your... fuck... your loyalty. I think... Ow! I think... you're the best... thing that ever hap-happened to me... And you're goddamn killing me now."

Spock pulled away reluctantly, looking into Kirk's suddenly darkened eyes. This wasn't the time for talking. Spock was high on the power he suddenly knew he had over Jim and that was the most incredible feeling he had ever experienced in his life.

"Come to bed with me, Jim," Spock uttered huskily.

Kirk nearly sobbed at the words. "Thought you'd never ask."

There was an immediate competition about who should take the lead, as they stripped each other, kissing and caressing wildly, slightly disoriented and losing control rapidly. But when they both were finally naked, and Spock pushed Jim down on the bed, he went willingly. Their eyes met and held, and Kirk nodded. It was a plea and consent at the same time, and Spock found himself responding to both before he could even consider it.

He lowered himself down on the bed and on top of Jim, making him hiss at the skin on skin contact, charged with electricity. Spock then kissed Jim deeply and hungrily, pouring every bit of love and desire he felt for this man into the kiss. Jim moaned and writhed beneath him, wanting more of Spock, more of everything, wanting to engulf him completely, to devour and be devoured.

Spock broke off from Jim's mouth, trailing kisses down his throat and chest, squeezing Jim's nipples between his fingers, making Jim groan loudly and arch up. Jim's hands tousled Spock's hair, stroking the tips of his ears, which sent fiery sensations through Spock's body. Spock glanced up at Jim, looking through the haze of lust and passion, and Jim nodded, albeit regretfully, answering the unvoiced question. He relaxed, letting Spock pin his wrists above his head and then Jim nodded again, accepting the unspoken command for them to stay there.

Spock was grateful for his acquiescence. He could feel Jim's need to touch him, it coursed through him like radiation, tempting him immensely, and yet he held on. He wanted to give this to Jim, wanted to be the one in control the first time. Spock wanted to convince Jim without a shred of a doubt, that he wanted this, wanted Jim, wanted to love him and cherish him, and that he wanted all that of his own free will. The immediate understanding, the complete trust in Jim's eyes ignited Spock's passion tenfold, and it took all of his control not to take what was offered to him in the savage manner of his ancestors on the spot.

He made love to Jim slowly, worshiping every inch of his skin, every inch of this magnificent body. There were no words, but they both seemed to speak the language of love fluidly. Spock could feel Jim growing desperate with need under his fingers, Spock's awareness of Jim's reactions enhanced by his telepathy. He used it, unashamedly, to bring his partner to an even higher level of desire, sensing Jim's amazement that it was possible to feel so much. For a moment, Spock regretted he couldn't meld with Jim now, but he pushed the thought away. They would have the time for that later.

When Spock's lips closed around Jim's strained erection, Jim cried out loud. Spock saw Jim's hands coming down instinctively, before Jim caught himself and pulled them back above his head with a frustrated moan. The sight and the sound nearly made Spock cry with love for this man, who was giving him so much, who trusted him so implicitly. Spock concentrated on giving him pleasure, wishing beyond everything to make it as good for Jim as he was only able, combining his skill with his knowledge of Jim and with Jim's reactions Spock was collecting.

But it didn't last very long. Jim's body tensed, arching up like a bow, and he was coming, shouting Spock's name again and again. Spock held him through the tremors, swallowing around him, thinking a bit regretfully that Jim came too deep within his throat for Spock to taste him.

When Jim finally stilled beneath him, Spock let go of him carefully and looked up, watching the absolutely undone expression on Jim's face. As if sensing his gaze, Jim opened his eyes, ocean-blue with passion.

"Spock," he whispered, his voice rough from the shouting. "I want you."

And then he moved under Spock, spreading his legs in a mute but unmistakable invitation, his gaze never leaving his lover's eyes. Spock felt his breath catch in his throat.

"Jim..." he broke out, totally incapable of anything more coherent.

"_Please_," was all Jim said.

Things became hazy for Spock after that. He wanted to be gentle, wanted to take it slow, but Jim would have none of it. The moment they both were ready, he wrapped his legs around Spock's waist, urging him on in no uncertain terms.

Spock complied. He was used to taking orders from this man, used to follow him through the gates of hell and beyond at his single word. He followed Jim in battle. Followed him on the bridge. Followed him through pain and grief. He could follow Jim in pleasure, too.

There were no words, Vulcan or human, that could describe the way Spock's heart stopped for an unbearable moment and then fluttered wildly when he sank into Jim's body. The sight of Jim, breathless, pliant and wanton in Spock's arms, was so incredibly erotic, so unspeakably arousing that Spock growled, deep in his throat, and gave in to Jim's half-coherent encouragements, thrusting into him with complete abandon.

Spock could feel Jim beneath and around him, demanding more in the heat of his returned arousal. Neither of them was capable of talking, but Jim's body screamed to Spock's directly, and Spock's body answered, bringing them both to the limit of their endurance and keeping them there until they couldn't take it anymore. They went down together, clinging to each other, drowning in the blazing light of the supernova they created.

Later, Spock watched Jim drifting slowly back to consciousness, playing with his tousled hair. Jim blinked sleepily and opened his eyes, focusing on Spock immediately.

"Hey." He grinned.

Spock leaned in for a 'Welcome back' kiss, then looked down at Jim softly.

"How do you feel?"

Kirk snorted. "Like I don't deserve you."

"Jim..."

"Seriously. I mean I have a reputation, which isn't completely undeserved, you know? But you... What you did to me... how you did it..."

Spock kissed his temple lightly. "I had... teachers," he said quietly.

Kirk's face darkened. "I am going to be needing their names," he said menacingly.

"Jim."

"So I can hunt them down and rip them a new one as they deserve," Kirk finished vehemently. Then, without warning, he lunged at Spock, pinning him to the bed and crushing their lips together brutally, kissing him hard. "You're with me now, you got that?" Kirk panted adamantly, once he let them come up for air. Breathless, Spock wasn't quick enough with his answer, so Kirk leant down and bit at Spock's shoulder hard for emphasis, sucking on the bruise before looking back at Spock again. "You got that?"

Spock's lips twitched slightly. Not quite a smile, but definitely a teasing curve. "There is no need to be so possessive, t'hy'la," he said quietly. "I am yours."

"Damn straight," Kirk said, kissing him again, this time making it slow and sensual. He pulled away finally, his playful mood evaporating. "I have a confession to make, Spock," he breathed out softly. "After what we've just been through, I'm afraid... that you would think less of me."

Spock lifted an eyebrow. "I am certain you will last longer next time."

Kirk stared at him, then snorted and nudged him in the ribs. "Smug bastard. You try to hold it together when someone as irresistible as you is seducing you."

Spock frowned, pretending to be considering that. "The described concept is rather alarming," he reflected. "Somewhat narcissistic."

Kirk resolved into a fit of laughter, peering down at the Vulcan fondly. "You could use some of that," he told Spock, kissing his brow, eyes twinkling with mischief. "But seriously, that's not what I meant. I didn't want you to think less of me because I was once friends with Jake. I mean obviously, I was stupid. I just wanted to belong with someone, I guess, and it made me a little shortsighted."

Spock rested his hands on the small of Kirk's back, rubbing the soft skin soothingly. "I understand how it could be, Jim."

Kirk nuzzled at Spock's hair, just behind his ear before sucking on the tip gently. "Yes, you would, wouldn't you? Maybe we were made for each other."

"Definitely," Spock agreed.

For a while, they stayed silent, letting the tender, not arousing caresses speak for them. Finally, Spock pulled away, looking up at Kirk calmly.

"Jim, none of what had happened is in any way your fault."

"I should have protected you better," Kirk said stubbornly, unforgiving.

Spock shook his head. "I should have been able to take better care of myself. My own insecurities have nearly become my undoing."

Kirk groaned. "It still bugs me that you would sell yourself short like this," he said, his gaze roaming over Spock's body, finally coming to a halt looking in Spock's eyes. "You are so beautiful," Kirk whispered breathlessly. "I don't care how I sound, it's beautiful and no other word for you. God, Spock, if only you knew. Sometimes you would just look at me during a meeting or on the bridge. You'd only look or tilt your head, or maybe smirk like only you can, and I'm ruined. I can't think of anything, can't remember what you're saying, what I'm saying, what's happening around me. I'd just drift in the vision of you until something snaps me out of it. And then I'd probably say something harsh just to make sure I haven't made a complete fool of myself."

Illogical or not, Spock drank the words like a desert flower longing for rain, sensing Jim's sincerity and still having difficulty believing it. He was having a hard time assimilating all the new emotions, welcome as they were. He pulled Jim down into another long languid kiss, trying to express his feelings without words, because he definitely didn't have Jim's capacity to string them together. Breaking the kiss, Spock shifted under Jim, indicating his wish to sit up. Kirk sat up first and pulled Spock up with him.

"What is it?" Kirk asked, frowning slightly. "What, Spock?"

"About Commodore Stevens," Spock said warily. "Lieutenant Uhura and I have explored our legal options. There is an approximately 51.73 percent chance that should he press charges against you, you will lose command of the Enterprise. As this is clearly unacceptable, I suggest we make a deal."

Kirk's frown deepened. "What kind of deal?"

"I will not press charges against him for sexual harassment, if he does not file a complaint against you. As your most severe probable punishment would be a reduction in rank, whereas his would include not only a dishonorable discharge but likely a term in prison, I am positive he will agree."

"No," Kirk said at once. "Don't even think about it, Spock. I want this bastard in jail, and I don't care if I have to go down, too."

"I do," Spock said. "Jim—"

"I said no. I won't allow you to protect me at this cost any longer, Spock."

"Jim, I would prefer not to press charges myself," Spock said calmly.

"Oh," Kirk breathed out, knocked off his horse suddenly. "Why not?"

"It... is a cause of great discomfort for me to have other people know of what had happened," Spock confessed. "Right now it is only you, Nyota, Doctor McCoy and the commodore himself. If I press charges against him, I will be forced to give a detailed deposition. I will have to retell each little detail, everything he said and did, to a board of strangers. Jim, I do not wish to do this."

"Spock." Kirk gripped his shoulders. "Look, I know it won't be easy, but it's the right thing to do. Running away or denying it ever happened is not an option."

"I agree," Spock said. "But I am not running away or denying anything. I simply do not wish to advertise it. I have already spoken with Doctor McCoy on the subject. He said he doubted I could 'reason my way out of it on logic alone'…"

"He's right on that one."

"...Which is why he suggested monitoring my progress on a weekly basis, should we choose to keep things private."

Kirk stared at him, amused despite himself. "You've agreed to counseling sessions with Bones?" He asked incredulously.

"They will not be counseling sessions," Spock replied with an air of offended dignity. "Merely... a talk between friends."

Kirk appeared torn between wanting to laugh and to kiss Spock. He settled for a clumsy but heartfelt bear hug in the end.

"Who am I to stop you from bonding with Bones over this," Kirk chuckled, holding Spock tightly. "Just as long as this works for you, okay?" He pulled back and looked into Spock's eyes. "It won't be easy."

"I know," Spock said. "We both need time to heal. I am merely suggesting it would be better if we could stay together and you would not lose the Enterprise in the process."

"Logical to the core," Kirk said with a chuckle and kissed him. "I hate to think he'd get off the hook so easily."

"He will not be able to harm us anymore, Jim. And if letting him 'off the hook' is the price we have to pay to stay together, I would pay it gladly."

Kirk sighed. "I know, Spock. So would I." He looked away for a moment, and then grinned at Spock impishly. "Race you to the shower."

Even after everything that had happened, Spock still wasn't human. So he definitely, most definitely in fact, did not roll his eyes.

* * *

_And just the epilogue remains..._


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I'm **terribly** sorry, everyone! Had to move to a new apartment, didn't have internet access for nearly two weeks! Way to realize you're addicted, huh? Anyway, here's the conclusion. I want to thank everyone for reading and reviewing this story. You guys rock, big time!

* * *

Epilogue

Admiral Pike was looking at the two young men sitting in front of him, with a frown.

"You two are giving me a headache."

He watched Kirk and Spock look at each other and then simultaneously turn back to him, with almost identical expressions of polite confusion.

"I watched the tapes," Pike said, suppressing a sigh. His gaze focused on Spock, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration. "You," he pointed at the Vulcan, "need to get your logic checked."

Spock lifted an eyebrow. "I see no reasons for insults, Admiral."

"Oh, you don't, do you?" Pike rose up and walked around his desk, leaning against it. "We're gonna have a nice long talk after this, Spock," he promised menacingly. "Just you and I, like old times. I don't know if I can put more sense into that stubborn head of yours than I had the last time, but I sure as hell am gonna try. And you," he looked at Kirk, who straightened in his seat. Pike sighed. "You, Kirk, are off the hook. Commodore Stevens has accepted your generous offer, so that's that. All the records are gonna stay with me, in case something unexpected happens."

"Thank you, sir," Kirk said earnestly. "We appreciate your assistance."

"That's definitely more polite than the last time I saw you," Pike remarked sarcastically. He looked over at Spock. "Your influence?"

"Polite conversation is not something Captain Kirk believes to be worthy of his effort," Spock remarked blandly.

"Hey!" Kirk spun in his chair to face him. "That was uncalled for! I've been polite with you plenty!"

"While I appreciate the special treatment on this particular account, I do not believe you should narrow your goodwill efforts to me exclusively."

"Aw, Spock, but you're so rewarding," Kirk pouted at him. "If I am polite to Bones, he just checks my temperature and then stabs me with a hypo for good measure."

"I must admit, I share the good doctor's suspicions."

"Really?" Kirk smirked. "Shall I just talk dirty to you all the time, as opposed to—"

"All the time?"

"You're such a spoilsport."

"That does not seem to discourage you in the slightest."

"I am in illogical human."

"It is gratifying to hear you know your shortcomings."

"What?"

"Gentlemen." Pike rolled his eyes, his amusement mixed with just a tiny bit of envy. He could see the closeness between them, a new layer definitely added to what he saw the last time. Spock might have maintained a strict expression, but his eyes were glinting with warmth. And Kirk was simply beaming at him, leaning toward his first officer over what little space separated their chairs. Pike pursed his lips. "Entertaining as it is, kindly get to it outside my office."

Kirk blushed. "Yes, sir." He rose to his feet, and Spock followed quickly.

"One more thing," Pike said, growing serious. "Jake Stevens will be discharged from Starfleet shortly."

"But," Kirk looked stunned. "On what grounds?"

"When you first told we what was happening," Pike said, "I looked into his personnel file and then did some digging. Apparently, when he was in charge of supplies distribution on Starbase 34, he 'misplaced' some highly valuable materials. Starfleet never discovered his machinations, but I was able to find a witness and he's willing to give testimony."

"You're joking," Kirk blurted out, delighted. "Will that get him a room in a cellblock?"

"Likely, no," Pike shook his head. "Not if he's able to pay the fine. But he'll be discharged for certain."

"Admiral..." Kirk stared at him in helpless admiration that made Pike laugh.

"Cut it out, Kirk. You've got a ship to take to the Beta quadrant."

"The Beta quadrant?" Kirk gaped.

Pike couldn't help a grin. "You're on a first contact/exploratory mission," he said. "No one will be breathing down your neck for at least a year."

"Admiral," Kirk repeated, too awed to find proper words. "That's... Holy shit!"

"He means, we come to serve," Spock supplied dryly. He lifted an eyebrow at Kirk. "Is that not so, sir?"

"Yes," Kirk nodded enthusiastically, gripping Spock's shoulder. "Yes, that's exactly what I meant. You took the words right out of my mouth, Commander."

"Get out of my office," Pike groaned. "Now would be ideal."

They saluted him and left. The admiral grinned and shook his head. Those two had a fascinating journey ahead of them. Now that they finally had each other, he knew they were going to be unbeatable.

Pike sighed, thinking that Spock looked even better than always, the newfound confidence suiting him incredibly, and Kirk was simply radiant with unabashed happiness. Their crewmates were going to have to put up with a ridiculously in love command team for a while.

And with all the problems they'd have to figure out, with all the crises they'd have to face, that definitely was a good start.

* * *

The End


End file.
